Path of the Midget
by Marcellasnow231
Summary: Marcella Snow is a pariah. She has captured the Culexus temple's attention, but she doesn't want to be an Imperial assassin. Can she escape her destiny?
1. Prologue

**Path of the Midget**

 **Prologue**

 **Disclaimer:** _I do not own the Culexus Temple, Ordos Sicarius, Inquisition, or any of the related concepts of the 40K universe. The only properties_ _I_ _own_ _are_ _Marcella Snow, Ippo Bellini and any other character I might make up._

 **M41.996**

 _ **Epsilon Regalis**_

Myrcella Tyrell, a petite but lithe woman with bright green eyes laid on the bed; her sweaty cocoa-skinned body was tangled up in her bedsheets. Her wavy mousy hair, usually tied up in a bun at the nape of her neck, was dishevelled, and she panted heavily.

"YOU FRAKKING IDIOT, KNOCKING ME UP LIKE THAT! I ALREADY BORE YOU FOUR CHILDREN, PLEASE LET THIS ONE BE MY LAST!" The woman swore at her husband, Lord General Ethan Snow, a muscular, yet wiry man with dark eyes and a hooked nose. He sighed, before taking out a packet of lho sticks. He puffed into the single stick that he had took out before sighing.

"Arthur, Sirella, Kevin and Neillias is excited to see their new little brother or sister. They had been begging for another one, and you had the idea to indulge their desires. They're in the playroom, dear," he replied.

Myrcella's belly was swollen, the proof was there that she was bringing a new life into the world. She ran her hand through her hair and sighed, "Oh well, I hope this child will be a spitfire. Sirella is too obedient for her own good, and I worry that this naivety will lead her into some dangerous situations. Both Arthur and Neillias are constantly getting into fights at school and I worry for their future prospects. Kevin is quite even-tempered, but his eye for money remind me too much of these conmen that I've had to deal with in my work."

"I agree, Sirella's naivety will be her undoing, one way or another," Ethan nodded, "I remember a daughter of one of my comrades; she ran off with some guy that the father had forbade her from marrying because of his associations with several criminal fronts. A year later these two were discovered to have joined a war band of Chaos, and were wiped out by one of these monstrosities that the Inquisition often unleash onto their enemies."

Myrcella had shuddered at the very thought of what her husband had implied; when she was a young woman visiting Neovraks, the planetary governor there, Lord Jeon Molochias had made an attempt to secede from the Imperium and establish himself and his cohorts as the rulers of his small empire.

They had titled themselves the Council of Fourty-Five, and there were ten Arch-Elders in this deviant group, including Molochias while the rest were just called Elders. And to make matters worse, the traitor was a warp-dabbler, something that had drawn the Inquisition's ire.

During the inauguration parade, a drop-pod had impacted the road in the centre of the line, and unloaded its psychotic payload, all in broad daylight and in front of the vid-cameras. The Adepta Arbites had instantly recognized the creature as an Imperial assassin of the Eversor Temple, and she watched in horror as the cadre was dismembered in gory and terrible ways. Even the bystanders who had gathered to cheer upon Molochias wasn't spared, including the children. Their faces, still frozen in horror had gave Myrcella nightmares for years on end.

It was little wonder she had a healthy fear of the agents of the Officio Assassinorum; the bowel-loosening reputation the operatives of the various Temples had accrued had ensured that their mission were carried out unmolested, for it was an act of the ultimate stupidity and/or hubris to obstruct one.

One such example was Silas Burroughs, a former rising star in the Adeptus Administrium; he had attempted to prevent an assassination attempt on Kalto, a planet in the Calixis sector that had been terraformed into an agriworld nearly 5 millennia earlier. The operative, a Vindicare by the code-name of Centurion-107, had dealt with the fool after he had sent renegade Astartes mercenaries to kill the operative. He had suffered serious injuries in the attack, and if it was not for the timely intervention of a nearby Medicae Adepta, he would have died of his wounds.

The man had accidentally fathered a child off this woman, which he took with him after the mother died in birth from complications; the female child was registered under her mother's surname in order to protect the aforementioned agent's secrecy.

Myrcella Tyrell could still recall the confusion on his face, as he obviously didn't know how to handle a child, let alone his own. She and the Inquisitor working with him had forcibly dragged the assassin to parenting classes, much to all three's chagrin and embarrassment.

The labour pains were getting stronger, and it was apparent to her that the baby was crowning; Myrcella could tell by the sensation of stretching in her own cervix. It was time for her to push, and Ethan Snow had moved to her side, and taken her own hand in his own, while his other hand had wrapped around her shoulder.

After what seemed like an eternity of pushing a strong cry emanated from the newly born female, but it was at this moment that the parents noticed that this child greatly repulsed both of them although she appeared like any other child.

The Adepta Arbites had heard of such people from stories; from what she had learned from them, many were psychopathic and cold. She had wondered about these soulless individuals, and her curiosity had won out over the hatred and discomfort.

This little baby would be her social experiment, as she had wondered, would a blacksoul like this child be less inclined to psychopathy and callousness if they had received a good upbringing?

The girl, Marcella, would answer this question, soon enough.

* * *

Eight-years-old Arthur Snow placed a triangular block on top of the arrangement he had painstakingly built from the group up. He stood back, marvelling at his handiwork, before Neillias, age two, swatted the structure to bits. His other siblings, Sirella, aged seven, and Kevin, age five, was playing with their stuffies, a bird for the girl and a lion for the boy. The girl was busy playing tea party with the aforementioned toy, and she sang in an all-too-sweet tone that the eldest sibling found to be ultra-annoying.

 _'I hope her younger sister will knock some sense into that naive head of hers,'_ Arthur thought sourly. The girl was on her way to becoming one of these submissive ladies that would willingly do what her husband say, even if it endangered her safety. The boy, in his own opinion, wanted a woman who was willing to pound some sense into his head than one of these vapid idiots.

He had recalled last year that the neighbours next door had one such woman, she willingly submitted to her husband's abuse, even as his mother had found the man's behaviour toward her inexcusable. She was murdered a few days after his seventh birthday, and mother had arrested him after finding extensive evidence of his role in her and two other wives's deaths. He was carted off on the nearest penal barge as soon as it had arrived, much to everybody's satisfaction.

Ever since he turned eight, he had visions of future events, and he had been hearing voices all around him, both in sleep and in waking life; it was how he knew that the baby in mother's belly was going to be a girl. But what bothered him was that when he had tried to reach out to his baby sister in the womb, he had sensed that she was a big black hole, and he had nearly collapsed when her mind had made contact with his.

Arthur didn't tell his parents about his gifts, he was too afraid and ashamed to ask for help so he bore it in secret. The fact that psykers were reviled in the populace didn't help matters; he had once saw how a boy in his class had been bullied because of his gifts. He had killed himself because of the treatment the perpetrators had plied upon him.

It was common knowledge that many psykers were scared of going on the big black ships that came and gathered them up, and left, heading toward Holy Terra. He knew that it was an inevitable fate, given his gifts, but why flee these ships? In his opinion it was a dumb idea.

Arthur was beginning a new setup of his beloved blocks when Grandpa Matthias had beckoned the four children, announcing that their new sibling had been born and that it was a girl. The entire group moved down the saffron-hued hallways of the estate that father had been awarded as a result of his victories in the various theatres of war in the Imperium of Man.

It was a simply decorated one, with hand-hewn artificially grown wood furniture; some were left bare while others were painted. One-quarter of the furniture were two centuries old and had been passed down from Snow to Snow over the generations, and others were newly acquired, and carefully chosen to harmonize with the original pieces.

The mansion had 50 rooms, with half of them being utilitarian in purpose like the library, kitchens and dining room. The other half were bedrooms; Arthur's own room was painted a pale grey, with gold and orange accents. The bed was made in the Mission style, an extremely ancient and classic style that had came from Holy Terra, and it was stained in a walnut colour that he particularly liked. It had a trundle under the bed that he had used on many occasions to house visiting friends from school for sleepovers.

The children looked upon the double doors that led into the master chambers; he could tell that his siblings were antsy to see their new sister; but Arthur was becoming more terrified with each step that drew him nearer to the door, the suffocating presence there had pained him and he had felt as if his life force was being sucked out. As his grandpa pushed the door to make way for the group of five, he had saw his mother's exhausted form sitting up on the couch, leaning back for support. At her breast was a teeny female baby, suckling hungrily at the nipple. He could clearly see that this child had inherited their mother's dark skin, but her eyes were like Grandma's and her hair was tousled, like his had been at birth.

He fled the room as soon as possible, as he was frightened by his sister, and with good reason. This girl was a psychic abomination, and her presence would have killed him if he had stayed in the same room too long. But nevertheless he knew that the girl was an innocent baby, but the fact that he had sensed virtually no soul in her had unnerved him to an extent.

* * *

Myrcella's eyes widened as she watched her eldest son flee the room; she had suspected for some time that the boy, Arthur was a psyker but this reaction had confirmed her suspicions. She had once worked with a psychic null during her time with the Inquisitor Thrawn Eisenhorn; his name was Jack Byblos, and he was an ebullient and rather rude man who had a fondness for collecting glass marbles. From what the Arbites had seen of his collection, he had over 120 marbles displayed in his room, and he was in the process of acquiring another twelve to add to it at the time.

"KILL HER-SHE IS A DEMON!" her father-in-law's voice took her out of her reveries, as he attempted to reach for her newest addition; Myrcella held the crying girl close against her chest. This was inexcusable, the child was only newly born, and for someone to demand her death was unfathomable. It soon become apparently why; the child's aura was driving everybody to the point of madness, although both Ethan and she had the willpower to hold it in check.

"I'm keeping this child: no matter what you say or do to her will dissuade us otherwise, Matthias," she replied sternly, "from this day on this child is a part of our family. Her name will be Marcella Nicole Snow."

Myrcella left the room, still holding her new daughter to her breast.

* * *

 **M41.999**

Marcella Snow peeked out of the window of the auxiliary living room; it had a window seat that she had particularly liked because it gave her a vantage point from which she could watch people. One funny- looking man was scurrying along on the street, carrying a stack of papers which he was taking to a nearby building, while an elderly woman plodded along, weighted down by the cart of groceries she was pulling behind her. Another man, this one clearly drunk, stumbled across the street; he bumped into the aforementioned man, causing paper to fly around the whole intersection they were situated on.

Marcella giggled at this scene; she clearly found it funny, since it reminded her of her favourite servant, Boondocks, who often stumbled and tripped. Sometime he broke things, but these things often were things that the entire Snow family didn't care for all that much, like the ugly flowery vase that mommy had received as a wedding gift from one of her father's cousins.

She knew that her mommy had no brothers or sisters on her side; the woman was an only child and her maternal grandparents were long dead. They had died serving the Imperium when she was the same age as Marcella.

Mommy was taken to the Schola at age six where she had shown an aptitude for law, and graduated there as a judge. She had travelled the Imperium briefly before she had met daddy and they married and settled upon Epsilon Regalis.

Daddy had been born here as had Grandpa Matthias and Grandma Marcella Lotnik, Emperor rest her soul. Marcella, her siblings and cousins had been the latest generation to be born on this planet, and she loved living there. There were lots of things to do and places to explore, and she loved watching people; they often said and did funny things in her opinion.

"During my time travelling through the Imperium I realized that the oppressive reign of the corpse god didn't allow anybody to enjoy their live as it should be, with its joys, rage, hope and despair; so I found salvation in the gods.

Hope is the driving force of change, and it is the Changer of Ways who epitomizes the desire for change, the hope for a better future. He listens to our hopes, share our dreams, and it is he who moves us. We are all-" A man was preaching in a nearby alcove; Marcella had seen the strange marking on his face; it looked like a star, expect that it had arrows instead of points, and it didn't look anything like the halos on the Emperor's head.

Her intuition told her that this mark was evil and that it was going to bring bad things with it. The young girl tugged at her front strand as she wondered what the man was talking about.

 _ **BANG!**_

The noise had startled Marcella, and she had given a small jump of shock; the man that she had heard pontificating about this "changer of ways" had dropped dead. He clearly had a hole in his head and gooey bits were splattered all over the wall behind him. The girl gasped at what she saw, and she was scared. She looked out of the window, and she could see a faint male figure climbing down the exterior of the building she was in.

She had ran to her mommy and told her about what she had saw and heard; it was clear that the woman was horrified by the idea of this person and also by the death that he had experienced.

"That man was a worshipper of bad powers. He died a death I'd rather not experience myself," Mommy told her.

That day was her first encounter with death and looking back on it, Marcella would agree that this corrupt preacher had died a ignominous one.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **M42.009**

A dark-skinned blonde girl snuggled under the covers, her blunt-cut bangs poking out over the fluffy pink material covering her. The room she was in, was painted a cheery pastel yellow, with pink and white striped wallpaper on the bottom. Next to her canopy bed, painted a shining white, was a matching nightstand; on it was a fuchsia lamp, something that this girl's elder sister had passed down to her.

The red alarm clock on the same nightstand suddenly rang, with a _bzzzzzzzzt_ sound: arms reached out to silence it. Hitting the snooze button, the girl went back to sleep.

"It's time to wake up, Marcella. Today's your first day of school," Suddenly the covers were pulled off her; the girl's reaction, to say were predictable. She sat up, muttering curses under her breath. Pulling her petite frame off her bed she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, great! I'm happy to be going to school," she remarked sarcastically; the person who had tugged the blankets off her was none other than her mother, Myrcella, who was bent on sending the girl to school for her first time, upon the advice of Baltir Chatham, an older, experienced judge who had noticed her daughter's talents. Marcella had memorized _ten_ _ **entire**_ _volumes_ of Imperium lawbooks and could quote any of the passages word by word; This had caught the man's interest, despite the fact that the girl's presence was quite off-putting to him.

She had confined Marcella to the house for her first twelve years in order to protect her from the various witchhunts that had been organized specifically to target mutants, suspected heretics and psykers. Her eldest son Arthur had been one target of such a venture; it was the presence of the Inquisition that had stopped the crowds from burning the young boy.

He had been taken away on the big black ship when Marcella was two, along with her favourite uncle, Kostner, and two cousins who were also psychic. She had wailed endlessly for him for two straight nights after the event.

From what Marcella had recalled of the man, he had called her little bouncer, because when she was ecstatic or happy, she often bounded up and down in small jumps. He feared her aura, but not the girl, since it was clear to Kostner that she was a fellow human being, like him. She loved drawing little pictures for him, and had given him one the morning he was taken away. He also had a cat, a gray tabby called Tyrus that she had loved playing with; he had took him with him when he left.

Walking to the wardrobe on the opposite end of her bed, Marcella pulled the alabaster doors open to reveal her clothing. Inside it was various clothing articles she had loved, and some she absolutely hated. One in particular had been a bright green and gold frilly dress that she had been forced to wear for a portrait shoot when she was five, and she had _fought_ every moment of putting it on at the time. It had a lacy puritan collar that Marcella had found particularly uncomfortable, puffed sleeves with matching lace and gold ribbon trims, and a knee-length bouffant skirt with a gold petticoat peeking out underneath. She had worn that one with sparkly gold Mary-janes, white tights, and a green bow in her hair.

She had looked so annoyed with her outfit at the moment; the fact that it was Aunt Ellina, her father's eldest sister that had purchased this with Marcella in mind on her fifth birthday wasn't helping matters. She had scowled in every picture taken of her, and these had made for some particularly funny ones.

That Emperor-damned portrait was still hanging in one of the living rooms of the Snow estate, much to her humiliation. It hung alongside a photo of her eldest brother flashing the finger at the camera when he was two, and her third eldest brother's baby photo, which had him in a wagon and making a funny face. The fact that these photos were the constant pieces of conversations between her parents and guests certainly didn't help matters, they often burst out laughing looking at these photos. It came as no surprise to the three that they were all embarrassed by these photos and with good reason.

Pulling out her uniform, she put on the white shirt, with its short cuffed sleeves that she particularly liked; it had a starched semi-spread collar that was sharp-looking in her opinion. Next came the tie; she popped the collar before tying the ends in a bow-tie. Positioning the collar in its original position, she picked up the plaid jumper and stepped into it before she pulled it up. Fastening the straps to its double brass buttons, she then turned to the socks that came with the uniforms. Pulling them up her calves, she ran into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

The reflection that gazed back at her, was unremarkable; even with her blond wavy shoulder-length hair, dark skin and the blunt-cut bangs that she liked, Marcella looked like every hive-worlder. Like the rest of her ilk, she was constantly wary, as it was common knowledge among the Imperium citizens that the hives often had high crime rates. A quick wit was virtually required to navigate the steel caverns that had been her home even since she was a baby.

When she had explored the neighbourhood, she had often uncovered secrets that even the Inquisition would have gladly gotten their bloody hands on, like the fact that the rumours of a Slaaneshi cult springing up among a small group of Ecclesiarchy priests were true. She _had_ told her mother about that; as a result the Fortress-Precinct where her mother had worked at had sent an astropathic summons alerting the Ordos Hereticus to this little problem. It seems that they were still waiting for the representative to show up.

Leaving the bedroom, she turned the lights off, and ran down the hallways to the kitchens, where she would grab a toast or two to eat before she left the house.

Seeing her elder sister, Sirella, Marcella frowned; she had felt that the ditzy bitch needed to have some sense knocked into her head. The girl was bent on being a perfect lady, with the intention that she would attract a high-ranking suitor among the nobles of Epsilon Regalis. She had repeatedly scoffed at the girl's vapid dreams, and reminded her that it was better to be of use than being a glorified arm-candy of some dumb-ass rich fool.

Sirella was as usual clad in her cloyingly sweet pastel dress; this one was buttery yellow with lace trim at the sleeves and a tiered skirt that ended at the ankles. It had a Chelsea collar that was low-cut, with the same trim edging the modesty panel of it. On the lower back was a giant bow that in Marcella's opinion, served to made the girl's butt look bigger than it already was.

"You look great, as usual," she sarcastically remarked, as she admired the monstrosity that was the choice of her sister. Sirella had several other dresses like it, and they were overly frilled, with too much fro-frou it earned the elder girl a spot on Marcella's Worst Dressed List.

A sigh came from behind Marcella; their mother had been annoyed at their constant spats ever since Marcella gained the ability to talk. The fact that Sirella had disparaged Marcella's choice to roughhouse and tumble didn't help matters, while Marcella had responded by calling her an airhead over the years. And it wasn't lost upon the woman that her youngest daughter had repeatedly warned Sirella that her endless dreams of being the perfect lady might result in her being disappointed again and again as people end up manipulating her to suit their schemes.

Both Ethan and Myrcella had agreed, this was why they had planned to force Sirella to marry into a lower-ranking caste; it was aimed at forcing the elder sister to mature past her own dreams of marrying into a noble house, and knock some common sense into her.

They knew too well what had happened to Great-Great-Aunt Kynassa Snow; she had been due to marry a member of the Scintilla ruling elite in the Calixis Sector. During her wedding, an Eversor had been deployed to wipe out the family she was joining that day. To make a long story short, the poor young woman had her head torn from her body at the altar, and her would-be husband, Elbern Helkovagian, had his spine ripped out and used as an improvised cudgel against her father-in-law.

The reason for this particular act was that his family had financed corsair raids on nearby Imperial worlds and the Inquisition had took notice. After an extensive investigation that seized various purloined goods, and interrogated various servants of the fiance's family, a kill order had been approved for the _entire_ _family_ by the High Lords of Terra.

Kynassa had been targeted precisely because she was going to be part of this family; it was a mistake that her over-ambitious father had paid dearly for, with his wife and six surviving children abandoning the man soon afterwards.

"A man's ego can be his own undoing," Marcella had mused sagely upon hearing this anecdote; it had become apparent to the girl that the more egoistic the person was, the more likely they were to become corrupt and greedy. It had been evidenced on many occasions in the Imperium, and one particularly egregious example was the case of Lord Ankritos Singh Annesh; he was a egomanical fool who had attempted to establish his own empire in the Ionis system. It was only through the timely intervention of a Callidus assassin that this secession was stopped.

Taking a freshly prepared toast from the plate, she quickly slathered apple jam on it before waving her mother goodbye. Running down the stairs she stopped at the stairs to get her slip-on sneakers, and put it on. Pushing aside the front door of her estate, Marcella Snow ventured out into the unknown reaches of her neighbourhood.

* * *

Toramon Erkan, and his younger brother, Erak, was currently fleeing the Adeptus Arbites enforcers that had been sent to round them up; they had been caught using their psykic abilities that day to escape a crime lord that they had been hired to steal gelt and drugs from.

It had begun as a simple job; they had used Erak's ability to phase in order to get into the building of this scumbag; what they didn't realize that the man in question, Erasmus Belkat, had caught wind of the plan, and had increased security in his compound. This had caused the two to be caught, but Toramon had used the crude equivalent of a divine shot to dispatch the two guards who had caught him, while Erak had paralysed two others with his biological lightning. Proceeding to the room where the money were, they then proceeded to use their inborn powers on the unfortunate guards.

They had gathered up nearly 30,000 thousand thrones worth of gelt, before stealthily moving on to the room where the drugs were held; it was where Belkat had caught them. The two had used their powers to nearly incapacitate the crime lord, but a squad of Arbites had burst into the room, bent on capturing every man in Belkat's gang. In the chaos that ensued from the raid on this hideout, Erak had took the opportunity to kill the criminal with his biomancy; something that had quickly captured the aforementioned enforcers' attention, and with good reasons.

The Erkan brothers had been living in the underhive of Epsilon Regalis since they were twelve and ten, respectively; their father, an Adeptus Administrium official had shielded them from scrutiny for a year before his mysterious death. After that event, the boys fled there for obvious reasons; they feared the big black ship and they didn't want to be dragged abroad there.

Toramon took aim at an enforcer with his divine shot again; the lasgun he had used barely burnt out a hole in the man's armour, while Erak hurled another bolt of bio-lightning at a second one; it hit a nearly power pole.

This caused a chain reaction that had electrocuted Toramon; dropping from the pain, he quickly found himself slapped with psy-inhibiting chains. The other Arbites had took the opportunity to tackle Erak, and he used the shock maul of his profession to stun the younger boy; he had also received the same shackles.

These damned enforcers then dragged the two teens to their feet, and inspected the boys for any markings, much to their chagrin.

* * *

Marcella watched from afar as she saw the two boys fighting off their captors; she had noted that the boys were psykers. She had heard stories from her mother about the myriad ways they had tried to evade capture. Some had totally concealed their gifts, while others had often used psychic powers to impede their pending captures. A few had even resorted to sorcery in order to defend themselves, and it was usually something that the Inquisition was not _particularly_ pleased with.

Sorcery usually had numerous risks, among them was demonic possession, and some demons were more likely to devour a potential summoner than make a deal with them. And to make one with them usually require some knowledge of the demon's deeds, his demonic name and the ranking he had in the hierarchy of Chaos. It was usually a foolish move, borne of desperation to perform this act and many psykers had paid for it, in body and soul.

Marcella wasn't surprised that these two were trying to flee the black ships; many of these fools who had did so often end up being captured by Inquisitorial forces, or even being outright killed. And others were often assassinated, usually by specialized anti-psyker killers.

Moving closer to the captured psykers, her curiosity were aroused; what was the boys doing? She looked around the alley that she had hidden in while she had watched the group. A yellow dumpster was situated against the brick wall of one building, while a couple of trashcans stood empty next to it. In another corner five filled containers stood; it had been done rather recently.

The aforementioned wall had been sprayed with the word BLANKASTIC in black, green and pink; it seemed to have been done a couple of years ago, judging by the slightly faded colors.

Sneaking out of the alleyway she had hid in she moved closer to the psykers; looking at the scene, she noted that there was a heavy bag filled with coins nearby; a robbery gone wrong? It would be likely, judging by what they had on their persons. It was commonly known that robbers usually were sent to the penal legions, and it was a well-known fact that people there were often branded with the name of their crimes by tattooing servitors upon their arrivals on the prison worlds in the Imperium.

The wanted posters of fugitives from these world were no exception; a few weeks ago Marcella had located one of them, reported the man to her mother, and he was quickly rounded up and returned to the nearest prison world.

But when she had moved closer, she had noticed the psykers promptly collapse, clearly comatose. She had stepped back, as she knew that this effect would be noticed by the enforcers. And true to her observations, they had noticed this; they were stunned by what had transpired. They had picked up the boys and loaded them up on a Arbitatorial rhino carrier and left the scene.

* * *

Chastener Taremann had been pursuing the two rogue psyker boys for the last five hours; it was clear to the experienced Arbitator that these two boys were not sanctioned. To make it worse, he had heard that Aballen Erkan, a bureaucratic official had not turned his sons into for processing; he had suspected that he had bribed some of his fellow judges. The man had planned to investigate these corrupt idiots as soon as possible.

They were clearly Aballen's judging from their striking resemblance to the man; from what Taremann had recalled of the man, he was a lanky man with olive skin, green eyes and a hooked nose. He often wore the robes of the Adeptus Adminstrium, and often had a tabac cigar in his mouth.

The arbitator had hated the man because he was a corrupt fool who would do absolutely anything to reach his ambitions, even hire death-cult assassins to go after his rivals. Aballen had nearly succeeded in that attempt, if it wasn't for the fact that this particular assassin he had hired had been paid handsomely by another official to turn his back on his employer. The man, as a result was repeatedly stabbed to death while he was travelling to meet a contact in the underbelly of Epsilon Regalis's Holibanius hive and in an alleyway that few dared to frequent. There were no witnesses to the crime, and nobody mourned the man, as it was commonly known that he had made many enemies during his tenure.

Taremann sighed; it was clear to the man that the boys hadn't yet registered how dangerous their powers really were. It was illegal for unsanctioned psykers to live among the public because of the potential danger of such demonic possession among these people. It was why the Adeptus Arbites often rounded up psychics like the Erkan brothers. One particularly infamous incident had occurred on the agri-world of Hallourn XV, when ten rogue psykers had became possessed; the group went on to ravage the world by unleashing the demonic legions of Chaos on the unwitting inhabitants. It had required three Chapters of Adeptus Astartes, countless legions of Imperial guardsmen, six Inquisitors, three Imperial assassins and an Exterminatus to finally stop the onslaught.

He obviously didn't want a repeat of the aforementioned event on Epsilon Regalis; the death toll of such an occurrence would be astronomical, indeed. Dodging yet another bolt of bio-electricity hurled at him by the younger brother, who was a powerful biomancer; he tried to tackle the boy only for him to jump out of his reach.

That particular bolt had hit the nearest power pole; the elder brother was electrocuted by the chain reaction; Taremann had took the opportunity to slap the psy-inhibiting chains he had on his person on the boy. His unnamed partner quickly tackled the other boy and placed the same kind of chains on him; that teen had cried out in pain.

After they had pulled the chained Erkan brothers to their feet, they had begun searching the boys for any marks of Chaos. It was in that moment that he had noticed that the psyker brothers face contorted in terror, and they begin flailing in panic; he also felt a presence that was quite chilling, and caused him some amount of discomfort. Turning around, Taremann shuddered, from what he could sense of it, it had came from the alley behind him. He saw a tiny teenage girl that he had instantly recognized as Judge Tyrell's younger daughter from the photos that the woman had shown him.

He knew that Marcella Snow, as this girl was known, was studying under Judge Chatham; that girl had phenomenal talent, but the problem was that she had a terrible presence that set everybody on edge.

When the boys had collapsed into unconsciousness it was when he realized that Snow's aura would present an ever-present danger to all psykers; both law-abiding and non-compliant. He resolved to inform the Inquisition about the girl, over both Tyrell and Chatham's own ambitions for her.

* * *

St. Bekendictos Composite Junior/Senior High School was a fine example of Classical Terran style; the facade was three stories high, and perfectly symmetrical. The six pillars that supported the portico were finely wrought in gray granite that had been quarried from the mines of Ganith X, while the facade was stuccoed brick, colored a deep tan.

The school had four small courtyards; three were gathering spaces, while the final one was reserved for basketball; This particular school had a reputation for producing some of the best players of that particular sport. This sport was endemic on Epsilon Regalis; it had been imported from the ancient cities of Toronto, Chicago, Boston and New York during the Aeon of Strife, and firmly established itself among the inhabitants of this particular world.

Marcella Snow had watched a couple of games on the vid-screen of her living room; she liked the fast-paced games, but only when she was the spectator. Tugging at a front strand of hair, she looked around the front courtyard; the place had two concrete plazas painted maroon edged by artifical turf; it was divided by a winding path made with the same granite that was used for the columns. On the stones, there were a few memorials.

 _IN Memory of MS._ _NIKOLLA HOLLOWAY_

 _May the Emperor's Light be with you._

 _Alway missed, and alway loved._

 _IN MEMORY OF BAN-JI MOON_

 _We'll never forget you,_

 _for you were a great friend_

 _and a good future servant of the Emperor._

She had read a few of these memorials, but these two stood out to her; From what she had heard from the headmaster of her new school, Ms. Nikolla Holloway had been murdered by her spiteful ex boyfriend after she had broke up with him. The young woman was currently engaged to another teacher at this school at the time she was killed, and her fiancee had killed the ex in retaliation for this act. This eventually led the man to be sent to a penal world, after one of his so-called friends had taunted the man about the woman; he had savagely beaten him to death in response.

Ban-Ji Moon was the same age as Marcella when he was killed by his father in a fit of anger; the boy had rebelled against his over-ambitious father, who wanted him to marry a cousin, despite the fact that the girl in question was manipulative and cruel. The boy had questioned many of his father's moves, as he had seen that instead of catapulting the family into higher social classes, it instead put the man in greater debt; some to nefarious groups. Ban-Ji had planned to seize power from his father; that day never came, as he was beaten by his father while he was drunk, and very, very angry over a perceived betrayal.

Entering the school's hallways she noted the maroon-hued vinyl tiled floors and the lockers on one side were painted gray, while the other were painted white. Looking at the registration papers that the receptionist had provided her, Marcella tugged at her front strand again.

 _Snow, Marcella Nicole_

 _Locker:246 Beta Wing_

 _Class: 7-Beta Teacher: Mrs. Chaeldan_

 _Room:206._

From what the girl had noted from the map of the school, Beta Wing was on the eastern side of the school. Heading right, she saw the school laboratories were clustered near the courtyard that she had been in earlier, while on her right was one of the school's two libraries. Coming upon a room numbered 206, Marcella knew that this was the right one.

She could only hope that her classmates accepted her, despite her _unusual_ quirk.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _ **Two weeks later**_

Marcella sat in her classroom; looking around, her classmates were quietly conversing about the latest topics.

"Have you heard that the planetary governor of Evangelion has decided to secede from the Imperium?" one boy had asked; his big brown eyes darted around the room.

A chorus of yes, and no answers replied; Marcella had taken notice of the topic. She had her eyes on the politics of the Imperium, as it was required for the line of work she had chosen. As an Adeptus Arbites, it was necessary to keep up with current events.

"That action will not end well, Cassis," she replied, "I wouldn't be surprised if the High Lords of Holy Terra caught wind of this act."

"Why would these old fogeys want Evangelion back? It is my opinion that the world is insignificant," a girl, clearly one of the more popular ones, asked.

"It is because they want the Imperium to be united, and such a secession like this would potentially destroy any unity among nearby worlds. And there is a law that forbids such a move.

Any lord governor sworn to the Emperor, may not make any attempt at secession or any disuniting actions that threaten the security of the Imperium, be it either peaceful or violent. If such an event like it happens, it usually falls to the highest ranking officials of either the Adeptus Arbites or Terra to try and force the person in question to comply. If these attempts fails, then it is likely that the Inquisition will intervene.

And if the governor of Evangelion is still not in compliance by the time the representative leaves, it is likely that the High Lords will send somebody to off the fool," Marcella's explanation had provoked some food for thought; it surprised the class to know that their new classmate had some knowledge of the political climate.

The class then recalled another, much older anecdote; approximately one-hundred seventy-six years ago, a cult of Nurgle worshippers gained new followers in Epsilon Regalis's Master Arbitators of that time; the fact was that the political infighting among the planetary governor, who wanted to enforce the laws and the nobility who wanted to secede from the Imperium had caused the Adeptus Arbites to be badly underfunded as a result. This had resulted in them turning to Chaos because they were being abused both politically and verbally by the rich families of that time.

When an Inquisitor of the Ordos Malleus showed up to investigate the cult he had discovered that nearly two-thirds of the Epsilon Regalis nobles were secretly worshipping the Architect of Fate at the same time, and this was the reason why they wanted to secede; so they could have the freedom to openly proclaim their admiration for the Chaos God.

He had requested two Eversor assassins; one to eliminate the corrupted upper echelons of the Adeptus Arbites, and a second one to wipe out the corrupted families entirely.

But the problem was that there were over 2,400 people in that target group; it was when the Officio Assassinorum decided to test their new prototype Eversor line, called AMX. One of them, AMX-002, had been dropped in the courtyard of the planetary governmental place during the New Year's Eve party; the governor had invited every one of them with the intent of having them being killed off by this assassin. He had figured out the details of this plan with the help of this unnamed inquisitor's help and the man was determined to get rid of the old, selfish families and reward these he had deemed worthy of the title of nobility.

The High Lords of Holy Terra had instantly authorized this particular order the moment they found out about the traitorous families. And it was on midnight signalling the beginning of the new standard year that AMX-002 had struck. He killed every member; the oldest was over 401 years old and the youngest was only a few days old. The scene was a veritable bloodbath; no one was spared and these people who tried to flee were quickly gunned down in microseconds.

The other assassin had wiped out the entirety of the corrupted enforcers in just half an hour, before he took out the leader of the entire cadre in a glorious explosion of acidic gore activated by his death.

The corrupted families were not mourned by the public, who despised them for the indifference they had shown to the people's suffering and the fact that the Ecclesiarchy had opposed the secession attempt. There were parties celebrating the end of these nobles's rule for a long time after the aforementioned event, and the incident had passed into legend on Epsilon Regalis.

That particular girl didn't quite get what Marcella had hinted at; she just questioned, "Why not them go? Their world-"

"-is a rich source of mineral ores, and precious gems, as well as of some rare crystals necessary to operate some technological systems," Marcella finished, "It is why the High Lords of Terra isn't going to let this act slide. They will call a meeting to discuss this incident, and if possible authorize any actions necessary to bring Evangelion back in the fold."

This girl was beginning to irritate Marcella; she thought that places were insignificant because they were far away from Holy Terra. She thought otherwise; the significance of places were connected to how valuable the planets were to the Imperium of Man's war efforts.

It was a line of thinking that had been passed from her father, an Imperial Guard officer, and this had helped Marcella in her studies to become a judge. She had been studying the laws of the Imperium for the last two years, ever since she had quoted a bunch of laws word-for-word to Baltir Chatham while he was visiting the Snow estate.

And the fact that she had recalled many laws that were relevant to the difficult situation that both her mother and he had been trying to resolve had helped matters; This situation had involved a high-ranking official pressuring several businesses to send him money in return for keeping them open. The results were devastating on both the businesses and their customers. It had all came to a halt when both arbites had put the official on trial for corrupt conduct, and he was exposed by his underlings. The men and women had characterized this official as a selfish, conniving man who often lined his pockets with stolen gelt from various Imperium construction projects.

To make a long story short, the man was convicted on the testimony of both his employees and the business owners, and was sentenced to _Servitude_ _Imperpituis_ by Judge Chatham in front of leering onlookers.

 _Servitude_ _Imperpituis_ was in essence, turning a convicted criminal like him over to the Adeptus Mechanicus; the person would then be lobotomized, his brain programmed, and cybernetic components grafted on his body. This turned the subject into a mindless servitor, doomed to serve his masters forever.

Marcella had been studying up on the various applications of this particular punishment all week, during her daily sessions under Judge Chatham's tutelage. From what she had recalled, it was usually used against criminals that had offended the Adeptus Mechanicus. This particular official had certainly committed crimes against the tech-priests overlooking the projects by stealing a few of their servitors for his own uses.

Another example was the treasure hunter Mikael Bãnderas; he had betrayed an Explorator in order to obtain a newly discovered STC template; this had backfired upon the bastard, as the betrayal was quickly uncovered. When the Arbites had caught up with the man, he was quickly turned over to the Mechanicus for his act and turned into a murder servitor, doomed to serve an Inquisitor that he had also backstabbed a few years ago.

It still amazed Marcella that people were willing to do stupid things against the tech-priests, even when it had become apparent that this punishment had served as a strong deterrent among the more sensible criminals of the underworld. But there were still idiots like Bãnderas lurking everywhere, and it was something that the Adeptus Mechanicus had deeply hated the most about amateur treasure hunters like him.

The girl sighed as she had returned her focus to her latest assigment in Low Gothic; this one was to improve upon some story that she had written as a child. Tugging at her front strand, she looked over the papers.

The story she was re-writing was called Vaedrex and his Magic Helm. Marcella had written and illustrated this story when she was six, and she thought it was cool at the time. It was about a man with a magic helm battling an evil wizard who summoned demons to devastate the kingdom he was in. In the story she had wrote, the hero, Vaedrex, had snuck in the tower in order to kill the sorcerer, but he fled. It was after he used his magic helm to find the wayward individual, he was able to kill the man with a blast from his helm.

Marcella thought that it was embarrassing that she had been given such an assignment, and the other students had agreed; they hated it. Cassis, the boy who had mentioned the news about Evangelion's secession had grumbled, while others muttered cries of "Oh, great!" and "Not again!" She had merely slunk further down the chair she was in mortification, her face a shade of crimson red when the assignment had been announced.

* * *

Mrs. Chaeldan stepped among the aisles of desks that made up the class; the students she had were generally a well-behaved bunch, but there were a few deviations in particular.

One of the worst was a delinquent boy, Etero "Joker" Namorr, who often skipped classes, and often had a fondness for flects; he had once tried to bring one to school to show his friends, but the Adeptus Arbites had intercepted the corrupted shard and seized it. The unfortunate boy had been sentenced to a year in the work camps on Brahmaan XI. He had came out of there, scarred, and much more crueler than usual. As a result of his imprisonment he had several welts on his back and neck, and scars around his ankles from the chains used to bind him while he was working.

The fact that the boy had begun to torture small animals were worrying, as well as the fact that he had attempted to set fire to the auditorium. He had been caught before he could carry out the act, and Mrs. Chaeldan had requested that the boy be transferred to St. Brutus's Institute for Incurably Criminal Boys several times, but it had been denied by the headmaster.

The second, Dewark Cossach, was the school bully. He had been held back from advancing to eighth grade because of his failing grades. Like Namorr he had a propensity for torturing animals, and he often brought pornographic slates to school. He also had began to show psychotic tendencies, and often took his anger out on fellow students.

Marcella Snow, the newest addition to the class had often stood up to these two when she had came to the aid of the beleaguered students. In one of the incidents that she had been involved in, she had kicked Cossach in the nuts during a kerfuffle in the hallways, and meditated a dispute between three students from a neighbouring class. The judgement that the aforementioned girl had issued had indicted two of the boys for wrongdoing, while clearing the third. They wound up cleaning the homeroom of their class, a punishment that she had devised with the aid of the vice-headmaster.

It turned out that the dispute had came about when the two had accused the victim of stealing money from the cash register of the cafeteria, but Snow had investigated further and uncovered that it was these two who were the perpetrators of that act; she had throughly chewed the two out for their greed.

' _She w_ _ill be_ _an excellent arbitator_ ,' The teacher thought; but the fact that she was put on high alert by the aforementioned girl's horrible presence wasn't lost upon her. The girl was one of the more intelligent minds in the class; her grades were usually A or A+, with a few Bs in other subjects.

She was also one of the few who had the common sense to acknowledge that whoever broke the Imperium's laws in such a big way were often made an example of in the most spectular ways; one of the most recent people to make it way into the history books was Ankritos Singh Annesh. His egocentric ways had been held up as one way you weren't supposed to act under the laws of the Imperium of Man.

It was a lesson that was required, even mandatory among the populace in order to teach the people that it was an unwise move to stoke oneself's ego, lest he become selfish and easily corrupted. Too many stories had cropped up of such prideful fools wanting a piece of their own domain, and many had tried to break away from the light of the Imperium. Most of them had paid the price in their own imprisonments, or even deaths.

Mrs. Chaeldan had pounded this lesson into her students' head many times over the years, even taking some of them to the Arbitator fortesses in order to show them the fate of these who had directly defied the _Lex Imperialis_. They were often thrown in the cells and left to languish there for months or even years.

For the umpteenth time, she sighed. Human folly were rampant everywhere she had walked, and it was not a surprise to the woman that she was willing to knock some common sense in her student's heads, even if it had come at a high price.

* * *

Marcella sat on the benches under one of the artificial trees; looking around she saw one boy playing his panpipes, while a girl next to him played her clavichord. Two other boys were about to begin a game of regicide, but a third had knocked the board off the table; he had begun to assail the younger of the two boys.

The girl stood up, and headed straight toward the group; sighing for the umpteenth time, she stepped toward the wayward boy; this person happened to be Dewark Cossach. He was the school bully and everybody hated him, with good reasons.

The boy was among the tallest in the class, at nearly 6'1; he had beady black eyes, a cruel grin and tousled mousy brown hair. He was also somewhat strong for a boy, and often stole things from everybody in order to destroy them in front of their respective owners.

She had repeatedly warned the headmaster that it was best to send him away, before he ended up seriously injuring other people. To make it worse, Marcella had noted that Cossach had shown two of the classical homicidial triad: he often tortured small animals, and on a few occasions he had brutally ripped fellow students's newly acquired pets out of their arms and hacked the animals to death in front of the poor victims.

The bastard had also set fire to several abandoned buildings in the area around St. Bekendictos; often these event had required several squadrons of firefighters to put them out. She had feared that someday, Cossach may go out of his way and firebomb a building that held many innocent lives. This was something that the girl had confessed to both her mother and Judge Chatham; both people had found her concerns to be entirely valid.

Marcella had concluded that the boy was a sociopath from her extensive observation of the aforementioned boy's behavior; the fact that he didn't even show the slightest signs of remorse for his action had alarmed her.

She leapt toward the boy with the intention of tackling him to the ground; he had tried to move out of the way, but she ended up headbutting him in the guts; it had the nasty effect of leaving the bastard out of his breath. He had attempted to retaliate with a punch to the face, but Marcella blocked that one, albeit only marginally. She then kneed him in his groin, before she turned Dewark on his stomach and began tying him up with a rope she had brought to school.

Everyone were staring at her, but Marcella didn't mind; she had felt that the boy needed to be taught a lesson. The fact that he had the gall to abuse the other boys had reminded her of some of her father's stories about much-hated commissiars and generals who often used fear-based methods to keep their forces in line. They had often been betrayed by their armies because of this attitude toward their men. She had often noted that bullies were often unpopular with their peers; they often went out of their way to taunt well-liked people in order to cover up their insecurities and the fact that they were grossly incompetent.

Father had told her of one such incident on Hallourn XV more than ten years ago; it involved the much-loathed PDF general Gene Varovachs. His abusive, belittling ways had taken a toll on his forces's morale, and they had quickly turned their back on the man to join the forces of Chaos. After this event and the subsequent investigation by the Inquisition, Varovachs had been executed because of his incompetence and mismanagement of military funds. To make matters worse, it had turned out that the man itself had been part of an illicit munitions trading ring that sold weapons and ammunition to various rebel and criminal fronts; once this group had been shut down, many of these groups had became sitting ducks, being picked off easily by the Space Marines chapters and their allied legions of Imperial guardsmen.

Pulling the boy to his feet, Marcella dragged Cossach to the headmaster's office at the front of the school. Knocking on the mahogany wood door, she waited for a few moments.

"Come in,"a familiar voice spoke. She pushed the door aside, dragging the bastard behind her. The beleaguered headmaster, Bantangos, was obviously in chains; the Arbites on either side of him were inspecting the records, and one had went into the back room.

Baltir Chatham, her mentor was inspecting several xenos artifacts that the wayward man had kept in his office. One was a wraithbone pendant, a second a shruiken rifle that she had seen briefly when she had went in that particular room to retrieve things for her homeroom teacher, and another looked remotely Tau-ish; she had strongly suspected that the headmaster had purchased them from black market sources.

Looking upon the man, he was olive-skinned, with a strong jaw and vibrant green eyes that reminded Marcella of emeralds. He had a disfiguring scar across his left eye that marred his rugged face, and on his jaw he had a five o'clock shadow.

"Cossach assaulted another student today, Chatham. I also noticed that he is beginning to have episodes of psychotic rage; yesterday he begun punching and kicking Mrs. Chaeldan for virtually no reason. It took me and six others to pull the damned bastard off her.

This boy troubles me and with good reason. The fact that this frakking headcase is still in class even when he poses a danger to the rest of us is concerning. And I'm not surprised that the headmaster is such a corrupt frakker. I overheard a conversation between him and some Administrium fellow; seem he was bribing the official," Marcella spoke up.

She had investigated the headmaster in her spare time after she had seen the aforementioned artifacts; what she had turned up had painted an alarming picture of the man. He was a prolific collector of xeno artifacts; she had found extensive records of his purchases in the file cabinets in his office. She had followed proper Arbites procedures, and sorted the papers in piles corresponding to the civilizations where the artifacts had came from. When she had presented them to Chatham, the rest of the Arbites had took notice of Marcella's discovery, and promptly raided the man's home with the intention to seize these illegal items.

They had sent an astropathic message with the information from Marcella's discovery to the Ordos Xenos, to see if the Inquisition had uncovered any more leads in regards to this trading ring, and now were waiting for a reply back.

"I am not surprised that this man was doing such a thing; inspecting the papers, I found records of various bribes he accepted over the years involving a variety of students. Look here, this is the record of one Miriam Hesslocher; she was a powerful psyker. Bantagos accepted nearly 500,000 thrones worth of bribes from the Lord General Mithras Hesslocher of the PDF and his wife, Mira. It was when she was in the eighth grade that we took her away; he tried to bribe us, but we refused to accept it as it would be a heretical act to do so," Chatham replied; he picked the aforementioned papers up and passed it to her.

 _Mithras Hesslocher_

 _Miriam Hesslocher, eldest daughter_

 _495,000 thrones paid; 515,000 owed._

 _Balon Marowak_

 _Cyrus II Marowak, middle son,_

 _10,000 thrones paid; 590,000 owed._

 _Ryan Cossach_

 _Dewark Cossach, youngest son,_

 _200,000 thrones paid; 100,000 owed._

Marcella looked over the list; pointing out one of these, she said, "It seems that Cossach's father paid him bribes as well to keep him in school despite the fact that he was a danger to other people. And let's not forget the fact that Ryan Cossach is a well-known wife-beater; I also noticed that Dewark had many welts and healed scars all over his body. I suspected that the boy had been abused for a long time; it may had contributed to his conduct problems, as well as his psychosis."

"So the boy's background had made him a budding serial killer? That's not good," Chatham replied. He sighed, rubbing his temple, "and the fact that he has shown two indicators of the Macdonald triad is causing us some amount of concern."

"He also had a huge stash of pornographic images in his dataslate; it is probably stashed away in his locker. I've seen the images; they are quite sickening. Women being beaten, tortured or raped outright. Other has them being forced to act out sexual acts with animals, and a few... I shudder to think of these women's fates," Marcella nodded, "his locker number is 301 Beta Wing; I want you to search the locker for any evidence relating to these arsons."

"Acknowledged," Chatham nodded, "You have some tremendous talent for someone so young, Marcella."

* * *

Myrcella Tyrell sighed as she picked up the paperwork that Chastener Taremann had assigned her to bring to the Ministry of Justice branch on the opposite end of the district. She found them rather tedious to sort through, especially the repeated requests for restocking of the food stores of the Precinct-Fortress she was working in.

She had been quite proud when her little social experiment of a daughter had been picked over 200 other potential applicants to begin the next phase in training for the role of arbitator; the girl was intelligent and often had a good head on her shoulder.

Marcella was unusually small compared to the other recruits which mean she couldn't use the suppressor shields because of her height. She however proved to be quite agile and somewhat flexible, so it turned out that the best solution for the girl was a pair of tonfas. The girl had taken to these weapons quite well, even training with them in her off-hours. She was also persistent, even going as far to look up as yet unknown leads in several cold cases that the Arbites had been working on. A few had bore fruit; in one particular case Myrcella had been able to indict the owner of a local furniture shop in the murder of a love rival. It turned out that the man was an obsessive stalker of a local bar singer, and when she had turned him down for a poor violinist, he had personally killed him in the back alley of the bar where they worked. When he had tried to court her, the woman had thrown herself off the ledge of the nearest building to her own death.

This Marcella had deduced from the woman's own diary, which she had found in an abandoned apartment; it was clearly unoccupied for decades, despite the landlords' attempt to rent it out. That building coincidentally happened to be across the street from where the Snow estate now stood.

From what Ethan Snow had told her, that place used to be a palatial house for the now defunct Caldwell family; the members had been among these who were targeted in the bloody New Year's Massacre of M41.833. They had been trading in artifacts that had sealed demons inside; when the Inquisition had caught wind of it, they were promptly added to the list.

Her husband was one of the few trusted servants of Lord-Commissar Angelos Engelbrecht; he was a prominent figure in the ongoing Black crusade. The man was a strong willed person, who didn't even flinch when faced with horrors from the warp. But while on a campaign in the Cadian sector, he was impaled by a Khornate berserker's sword, and died from massive blood loss. Ethan Snow in his grief, rallied the men of his forces to kill the brute, and it was with the aid of the Dark Angels that his killer was subdued.

Ethan had took inspiration from Engelbrecht, even keeping up his resolve in the face of horrific losses; this had caught the Imperium's interest, who had offered to train him as a Commissar. He had turned the training down in order to stay closer to his family.

During one campaign in particular, after both Engelbrecht and Ethan had exhausted all options, he had went and talked with Thrawn Eisenhorn of the Ordos Malleus; he was the one who suggested an option in the form of an Eversor assassin; this was because the position of the corrupted PDF hierarchy on that planet was firmly entrenched in what used to be a large Precinct-Fortress. When the two had suggested the idea, Engelbrecht had seized upon the idea; two months later, after the priority astropathic message for the assassin had been sent, a drop pod had landed two blocks away from the building. The killer in question had proceeded to go on a bloody rampage inside it, killing everybody.

After Ethan and his forces had entered the building after the massacre was implemented, he was horrified by the carnage that this particular assassin had wrought; severed heads, numerous instance of spinal traumas, spilled guts and pierced chests. And every victim's face was frozen in a perpetual expression of terror.

It was little wonder that when Ethan had told that story of his comrade's daughter during Marcella's birth, it had made her recall her own encounter with one.

During the Neovraks incident, Myrcella had arrived alongside Thrawn Eisenhorn to investigate rumors of a heretic demagogue spreading dangerous heresies on the world; what they didn't know was that Jeon Molochias and his cadre was planning to secede from the Imperium. Another Inquisitor, Bailos Ventora had discovered the plans while investigating the aforementioned man's warp-dabbling. During the inauguration parade, the nasty surprise gift from the Inquisition to Molochias was revealed; an Eversor.

At the time Myrcella was watching the parade on the vidscreen from the bar she had visited in order to gather more information regarding the target; she watched in horror as the killer dismembered his unlucky victims. It was only after the incident that she had found out that the man was dabbling in the warp.

She could only hope that she would never see any more instances of carnage again.

* * *

 **...Initalizing...**

 **...Ordos Sicarious Clearance Required...**

 **... _Scanning Handprint_...**

 **...Ordos Sicarious Clearance confirmed; opening Database.**

 **... _opening files of assassin candidates_... **

**Name:** Snow, Marcella **Birthdate: M41.996 06/23**

 **Birthplace:** Hive Scintilla _, Epsilon Regalis_ **. Sector:** _Gehenna_

 **Gender:** Female **School/Schola:** St. Bekendictos Junior/Senior Composite High.

 **PARIAH GENE CONFIRMED.**

* * *

 **The credit for AMX-002 goes to sirius333. His character is interesting though.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _ **One month later**_

 _ **On the Unwavering Resolver**_

Denton Briar of the Ordos Sicarious looked over the dossiers on his desk; many of these he had discarded after a through assessment of each individual's merits and weaknesses. Some of them were mediocre, while others had many serious flaws that made them unworthy of the Officio Assassinorum's own training protocols.

While he was reading these files, his thoughts had wandered to Dagon Lachirus, codenamed Centurion-107. When Briar, Eisenhorn and an arbitator in the aforementioned inquisitor's retinue had found the man, he was already bandaged up, although he had flashes of consciousness. The woman who found him was a well-qualified Medicae, and had attended to the man's injuries as best as she could.

During that time Lachirus had spent under her care, he was sexually attracted to the woman and vice versa; they had several encounters. In one of them he had impregnated the woman; she was five months pregnant at the time he was found.

"I accept responsibility for my child...be it a boy or girl," he had told Briar when he had fully recovered; the fact that the Vindicare was willing to send a stipend to the mother to aid her in raising her child was admirable in Briar's opinion. But when the woman had died in childbirth of puerperal fever, Lachirus had to take in the child, which the mother had named Julores. He had to register the child under her maternal last name, which happened to be Ronnherig in order to ensure his own secrecy was not compromised. It was an utterly humiliating experience for both Briar and Lachirus; the fact wasn't lost on the two that the aforementioned assassin had virtually no social skills. The arbitator, Myrcella Tyrell had helped with finding parenting classes for the man, although she was also embarrassed by people staring at the three of them while they dragged Lachirus to the nearest community recreation centre.

Three dossiers in particular, stood out to the man. The first was a boy, called Dewark Cossach; from psychiatric records the Officio had found he had been characterized as psychopathic and psychotic. There were many records of the boy torturing small animals, and testimonies from many witnesses had mentioned that he enjoyed setting fires. Often these locales were abandoned places, but there were concerns that the boy would set fire to a place with people inside in the near future. The Eversor temple was specifically interested in this subject.

The second dossier held the records of one orphan called Benjya. He was absolutely cold, and never showed any emotion; from what the records had said about the boy, he was a withdrawn individual with uncanny shooting skills and a ruthlessness that had frightened many of his peers. In one incident he had shot the gang leader in his district from nearly a kilometre away, which had caught the Vindicare Temple's attention.

The last was of course Marcella Snow, Myrcella Tyrell's younger daughter; from what he had read, she had the highly coveted Pariah gene. The girl was quite mentally stable compared to her ilk; she was a somewhat kind girl and from the few records the Officio had retrieved on her, Snow had absolutely no psychopathic tendencies. But there were a few autistic tendencies, like her tendency to pull at her hair, and the fact that she tended to stare off into space for long periods of times.

She had memorized ten entire volumes of Imperium lawbooks by the time she had turned eleven, and could quote them word-by word. This had obviously caught the Adeptus Arbites's attention, and from what the man had gleaned, she was training to be one.

Briar had recalled one recruit, who was a cogboy from the forge world of Kantrael in the Cadian gate sector; like her, he had been found to have the Pariah gene while in training, this time to become an Enginseer. The boy had been brought to the Soulless Fortress, and he had begun his training in his powers there, becoming one of the few Tech-priests to serve in a dual capacity as a killer. To aid this he had been fitted with several technologies that had helped him detect potential psykers, while still serving his usual function in his chosen trade.

He had felt that Snow would be better off as a full-time assassin, as he had noted that in the psychiatric records, she sometimes had difficulty interacting with people because her presence often drove people mad. To add to her potential she sometimes had a cold stare that often unnerved many people.

He would have to observe her from afar as she trained; It was clear to the man that the Culexus temple wanted her because she was one of the few surviving pariahs to mature past infancy and childhood.

* * *

 _ **Hive Scintilla, Epsilon Regalis**_

Marcella Snow looked over the records of the late Aballen Erkan; She had been investigating him ever she had overheard rumors three weeks ago that he had aided Bantangos. One list that had caught her eye in particular had been a mysterious string of addresses.

 _42336-53 st NW_

 _Apartment number 6044_

 _Reddington District_

 _28892-233 Ave SE_

 _Apartment number 17760_

 _St. Bekendictos District_

 _12034-231 ave SW_

 _Apartment number 403_

 _St. Antigone District_

 _26855-223 Ave SE_

 _Apartment number 5335_

 _St. Bekendictos District._

"These addresses are suspicious; something about them seems important, Chatham," she looked up from the aforementioned list.

"I remember that one; I recall that somebody had broken into that one and stole something a year ago," he replied as he pointed to the third address, "From what I distinctly recalled, it was a strange statue; it had three heads. One was of a serpent, the second a human head and the third a falcon, and it had a body of an unknown bird. I found photos of it; it seemed to fit in a niche in the wall,"

"I suspect that this niche is hiding something," Marcella nodded, "something big; Why would Aballen Erkan go to great lengths to shield his sons from the black ships? Did he had secrets he didn't want other people to expose?"

"Good question," an unfamiliar voice chimed in; The spindly man was clad in a gray suit with a red scarf, a fedora and big silver necklace with the tri-barred I of the Inquisition. He had an aqualine nose, a gaunt face and his messy hair hung in front of one eye.

"Ruhr Foules of the Ordo Hereticus at your service; I came here to investigate the Slaaneshi cult, but it seems you have uncovered something that may potentially be the tip of a deeply troubling iceberg, Marcella Snow," he introduced himself.

"From what we know of Aballen Erkan, he was a corrupt official in the Adeptus Administrium. He bribed several of our ilk in order to shield his psyker sons, sent several assassins after some of our investigators begin digging deeper in his dealings and even sent one after a rival. The man was found dead in the Murder Alley of Hive Holibanus from several stab wounds; after we interviewed his political rival, it turned out the man convinced the assassin to turn upon Erkan by paying 200,000 thrones worth of gelt; it was much better than Erkan's paltry sum of 10,000. He also told us he convinced the death-cultist that the victim would be a much more worthy sacrifice to the Emperor than himself," Chatham explained.

"I also saw his two sons; seems they were robbing people in order to survive in the underhive, although. When I stepped closer to them in order to investigate, they lapsed into unconsciousness. This must been something that only I can do. I remember that when I was small, I was often locked inside my own bedroom or an adjacent living room, and only my mother or a trusted servant were allowed to enter. They often brought me food, toys, and sometimes took things I wanted to give to others out of the room at my behest. I also remember that my brother was scared of me; he often stayed with Grandpa Matthias.

When I tried to talk to people other than Mother, Father or that servant, they often fled, or in some cases tried outright to kill me. I knew that this kind of occurrence was what made me different, so I spent a lot of time alone. I spent a lot of time reading the lawbooks in Mother's office as a result, and when I helped Chatham and Mother resolve a difficult case, he saw I had potential," Marcella explained.

"You must be a pariah, Snow; It explains a lot about these psyker's reactions to your presence, and the fact that people fear you," Ruhr Foules replied, "The Ordos Sicarious know more about your ilk and they will be able to explain more."

"So on to this address, we were talking about a strange statue that Chatham recalled was stolen from it. It had three heads; each was from a serpent, human and falcon; the body was that of some unknown bird," Marcella raised her hand to begin tugging at a front strand, "Sounds familiar to you?"

"The Architect of Fate, the Emperor preserve us all," Ruhr breathed, "this isn't going to be good. I am beginnning to suspect that Erkan must've joined a coven, or is trying to establish one."

Chatham picked up a book; paging through one; he pointed to an entry.

 _M42.006, May 26th_

 _I have decided to shield my sons from the Inquisition; the reason is that I fear for their freedom and their future; I wanted to train them myself, but to do so would attract attention._

 _Toramon is beginning to show signs of being a diviner; he had already predicted a few events on other worlds, like the purges of St. Antigone's Harbour, the attempted assassination of the governor of Benilarii X, and a secession attempt on Evangelion._

 _Erak has already shown signs he could manipulate biological energies, both in himself and on others. I see potential guardians of a new coven here in these two. To the unworthy, they see them as potential servants of the corpse god. I see new future servants of the Changer of Ways._

 _The Imperium, I believe have became stagnant and corrupt; so I submitted myself to the Architect of Fate in the hope for salvation for my sons and me. I have begun to collect writing on him and his cryptic paths, and have hidden them away from prying eyes; it is my fervent hope that I can collect a following around me and overthrow the corpse god._

 _Aballen Erkan_

Ruhr Foules's face scowled at this entry; sighing he took the book from Chatham.

"Looks like we'll have to go look for that statue, guys,"he rubbed his temples.

"Exactly." Marcella's voice chimed in.

* * *

Denton Briar looked upon the Precinct-Fortress of Epsilon Regalis; it had eight strong, square towers surrounding the building. They reached twice the height of the walls and were connected by large, vast walls made of golden imported stone. Small windows were scattered here and there around the walls in seemingly perfect symmetry, along with overhanging crenelations for lasguns and artillery. The gate was made with strong, durable plasteel, and it had an image of the Adeptus Arbites logo engraved on it.

Entering the fortress, he could see an expansive courtyard, with several arbitators training in the designated rings along one side, while the other side had ten benches, lined end-to-end on the northern side. Several men and women were animatedly debating on two of the benches, while the rest were scurrying back and forth on various errands.

"Are you from the Inquisition?" one of the arbitators from one of the aforementioned groups stood up; he stepped toward the Inquisitor.

"Yes." Briar turned toward the man.

"Then follow me. I am Chastener Taremann, and I want to show you something. It's about Marcella Snow. She is the daughter of one of my fellow arbitators, a judge called Myrcella Tyrell," he gestured with a beckon; leading the man to a large door near the western tower he pushed it open. They went down a long corridor with several doors on both sides.

"I know about her, Taremann. What do you want to show me that involves her?" Briar's question nearly caught the man off guard. His expression became one of trepidation, and he sighed.

"Marcella killed two psyker brothers by accident; they were the sons of a corrupt bureaucratic official on this world; His name was Aballen Erkan. The boys were hiding from us because they didn't want to be rounded up as part of the tithing. We found them when they were attempting to rob a crime lord called Erasmus Belkat, and it was the younger brother, a biomancer who killed him.

She was watching us as we apprehended them, and when she drew closer to investigate, I noticed that the boys became comatose. They never woke from their states, and we were forced to give them the Emperor's mercy," he replied.

Briar's face turned grim; he mulled over the new revelations. The girl clearly was a danger to psykers, as evidenced by the deaths of these two boys. But the fact that their father was corrupt couldn't be ignored.

"What do you-," Briar was about to ask, but he was quickly interrupted when he saw another Inquisitor coming down the same corridor; following the man was another arbitator and the aforementioned subject.

The girl was tiny for her age, and she had dirty blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a cocoa-toned skin. Her delicate face had a button nose and she seemed to be fidgeting more than usual, as evidenced by the tugging of a front strand of her hair.

"Ruhr Foules, Ordos Hereticus. Aballen Erkan clearly was a Tzeentchian worshipper; he had a journal in which he had wrote that he had converted to the Changer of Ways recently and he also mentioned that he had planned to rear his sons to be the same way," the other Inquisitior answered.

"He also had a statue of the Architect of Fate in his possession; it fit in a niche in a wall in an apartment in St. Antigone District. It was stolen a few days after Aballen Erkan's death, from what Judge Chatham could recall," Marcella threw her three cents in to the conservation, "we are going to search Hive Scintilla for this artifact."

"But first, I want to see the corpses of the Erkan brothers. Taremann, lead the way," Briar nodded toward the aforementioned enforcer.

The entire group turned right down another hallway; at the end was a pair of big hunter green-painted doors titled 'MORGUE' in bold white sans-serif lettering. Taremann pushed it aside, and they entered a long rectangular room; it was painted an ecru colour on all four sides, and there were several autopsy tables on the right side. Plasteel doors, painted the same hunter green as the aforementioned doors concealed refrigerated corpses on the left side of this particular chamber.

 _10..11..12..13..14...15_

Taremann moved toward the one numbered twelve and thirteen; pulling one door, he pulled the drawer to reveal the body of a lanky boy, who couldn't be barely more than sixteen years old. His tangled brown hair was shorn short, and he wore a red sweater and green cargo pants. His feet were bare, and Briar could see old scars on the soles, most likely from falaka beatings.

The arbitator then pulled door number 13, and this one revealed another boy, obviously two years younger; he resembled his brother. This particular teen was wearing a gray t-shirt, orange duffle vest and the same cargo pants as his brothers. He had scars on his arms; from what the Inquisitor had judged, they seemed self-inflicted.

They also seem unusually withered; it was clear to the man that Snow's presence had the nasty effect of draining the psychic energies from these boys. Briar realized that the girl would have to be taken in for both her own safety and others.

But the girl was oblivious to this fact; from what he could overhear from Marcella and the other arbitator, Chatham's conversation, they were discussing a ring that trafficked xenos artifacts.

"Aballen Erkan knows about the ring; he let Bantangos keep the artifacts. This is yet another black mark on his character. And the fact that Erkan accepted bribes from nearly anybody that had criminal links won't bode well for Epsilon Regalis," the girl spoke up.

"He even let some dandy from the nobility keep an odd artifact," Chatham nodded, "from what I've heard, it looked like some mysterious bracer, and it was colored an onyx green, with strange gems unlike anything that people have seen."

"I've heard stories about these devices from my mother; they usually serve to turn you into some monstrous creature. She once told me that she, some Imperial assassin called Lachirus, a Sister of Battle and Inquisitior Thrawn Eisenhorn had fought somebody who was in the process of being turned into one," the teen girl replied, pulling at her hair.

Briar had instantly recognized what Chatham and Marcella were talking about. A Halo device, a highly forbidden xenos artifact that was making inroads among the rich and the powerful. He had lost count of how many times he had called upon Dagon Lachirus to assassinate known dealers of these emperor-damned things and he once had to call upon a kill-team of Deathwatch marines to deal with one particularly widespread ring in the Calixis sector. It had been a rather interesting time, with the Blood Angel drowning in the depths of the Black Rage, the Dark Angel discovering clues of a Fallen's location and concealing it from the rest, a Black Templar distrusting the Blood Raven Codicier, and the leader, an experienced Iron Fists tactical marine, trying to keep the aforementioned subjects from ripping each other's throats out.

Briar rubbed his temples; what was he getting into this time?

* * *

Dagon Lachirus picked up his Exitus sniper rifle; starting the arduous process of cleaning it, he was promptly interrupted when his twenty-two years old daughter Julores Ronnherig bounded into the room; her raven hair, bound in twin braided pigtails bounced behind herself. He never understood why Julores preferred it that way; maybe it had something to do with her deceased mother?

She wore a bright fuchsia sweatshirt, apple red leggings and simple brown ballet flats. Layered over the aforementioned leggings was a plaid olive green, red, and gold pleated skirt that she had bought when she was 20 while on a visit to Ionis. She picked up a spiked belt from the trunk at the foot of her bed, and put it on; it had a holster for a stubber pistol and several throwing knifes.

"Dad, what do you know about Epsilon Regalis?" she asked.

"It is a hive world, population approximately 261 billion; The Planetary governor is Archos Ochoas. His dynasty has reigned for the last 231 years; the family was chosen after the Hygthoran clan was removed from power following a secession attempt in M41.778.

The secession attempt in question involved the family patriarch of that time, Malcolm Robydis; he crowned himself king of Epsilon Regalis; during his coronation a Callidus assassin disguised as the priest overseeing the ceremony stabbed the traitor in front of his supporters and promptly disappeared.

A second secession attempt occurred in M41.883; the nobility tried to extert their influence upon Archos' father, Eberle, but he resisted. He enlisted the aid of a Ordos Malleus inquisitor in order to get rid of his rivals after it was discovered that they were worshipping Tzeentch. A prototype Eversor was deployed to cleanse the traitorous families.

Its primary exports are cloth, munitions, stoneware and weaponry. There are 4 main hives, they are called Holibanus, Scintilla, Najhorobos and Mabbins, and 16 minor hives," he explained to his offspring.

"Which one are we going to? I've heard that Hive Holibanus has a really cool headless statue I'd like to see! It is rumoured that this statue once was erected in honour of Goge Vandire, but was quickly beheaded soon after he was denounced as a traitorous jackass," Julores replied, as she picked up Dagon's Exitus pistol and his spy mask and passed it to him.

The Vindicare frowned in distaste; It was during the Age of Apostasy that the aforementioned bastard seized power. The Ecclesiarchy became corrupt; the faction demanded massive tithes from planets. Many worlds were crippled; It was only when Sebastien Thor rose against Vandire's reign that the tide turned, and he was killed at the hands of the Daughter of the Emperor Dominica.

Dagon had never liked megalomanical fools like him; Once on the world of Hagia, when he had overheard rumors of a cardinal attempting to do the same thing he had requested permission from Thrawn Eisenhorn to investigate this particular person. The evidence he had found was to say it mildly, quite damning; when the assassin had shown the journals to Eisenhorn, he had promptly authorized the assassination on the spot.

He waited for three days hanging upside from a relay pipe outside the cathedral where this corrupt hierarch was situated inside; when the bastard showed up for his weekly heretical sermons, he had put a turbo-penetrator round into the traitor's face. After this event, the congregation had turned on each other, blaming each other for the death of their _fearless leader_. At the time he had committed this particular killing, Julores was only four months old.

 _'Goge Vandire was an ass. If anyone like him ever appeared I would be more than happy to shoot_ _the person_ _down,'_ Dagon thought sourly. He had recalled one particularly egoistic boy from his Schola; he had expected to be picked to be a commissiar, given his high grades and battle prowess, but instead the arsehole had been assigned to the Adeptus Custodes, a move aimed at breaking his egotism down. The drill abbots had specifically recommended this move because they knew that egocentric fools like him often bred corruption, and they didn't want to sow seeds of damnation inside the Commissariat.

He stood up, slinging his sniper rifle on his back and holstering his pistol; taking the spy mask from his child's hands, he turned to her.

"We're going to Hive Scintilla. Inquisitor Denton Briar has found several candidates for Officio Assassinorum operatives. He is waiting for us there," he nodded.

"So these kids... will they be like you?," she asked, "I remember Myrcella Tyrell, she was the one who took care of me when I was an infant. Does she live there?"

"I honestly don't know, Julores," Dagon sighed. He could still recall the woman, and how she had helped out with Julores when he was assigned assassination missions from time to time.

The first five years were incredibly difficult; the fact that Dagon couldn't be away from Julores for long periods of times mean he had to engineer creative ways to kill his targets, while ensuring that he could also attend to his daughter as quickly as possible.

On one particular misson on Borthamon XIV, he had planted a bomb on the renegade governor Brawyon Van Schjinldt's car. This man had declared himself the High Emissary of the aforementioned world, and was in the process of seceding when Dagon Lachirus was assigned to kill him. He had snuck in the garage past heavily armed security and planted it, before escaping through a secret passage that he had located.

The mission was an unadulterated success, as Van Schjinldt was blown up in front of his terrified audience during the parade. His followers had engaged in a brief civil war before they were captured by Inquisitional forces, and half were executed, while the rest were turned into arco-flagellants. He had recalled that at the time Julores was nineteen months old; She had said, "Boom-Boom!" while she watched the results of his misson on recorded vid-cam.

The Officio had been considerably impressed at his creativity given the difficult circumstances that the man had found himself in. This wasn't lost upon the Ordos Sicarius representative Denton Briar, who had requested him for his own retinue.

Dagon had been serving the man for the last twenty years; he could only hope that others who had ended up in similar circumstances coped as well as he had.

* * *

Julores Ronnherig skipped out of the Inquisitional shuttle craft that her father and her had boarded alongside a voidborn Inquistionial Stormtrooper called Cassidy Landros, a Deathwatch tactical marine from the Iron Fists, Cassius Malarchos, and a primaris psyker called Bhallar Vijay.

As the group emerged one by one, she twirled around; admiring the spired peaks of Epsilon Regalis, she could clearly see that this world was clearly loyal to the light of the Emperor. The people were milling around her, mostly oblivious to the mission that the group had been tasked to complete. They were to scope out these assassin candidates. She had already knew that Dagon would seek out the orphan Benjya; the boy was living in an orphanage in the underhive from what she had heard.

They were planning to head toward the elevators that would take the group to the bottommost layers; but Denton Briar had showed up. He was followed by two arbitators, another Inquisitor, and a petite teenage girl, which Julores could clearly see was standing next to one of the aforementioned enforcers.

"This is Ruhr Foules, Ordos Hereticus, and the two arbitators here is Judge Chatham and Chastener Taremann. The girl is one of the candidates, Marcella Snow. She was the one who had provided the information on the Slaaneshi cult in the Ecclesiarchy priesthood in her district and a potential Tzeentchian cult, as well as an illicit xeno artifacts trading ring among the nobility," Denton had explained, "from what Chatham and Snow told Foules, Aballen Erkan, an Adeptus adminstrium was clearly corrupt. He accepted a lot of bribes from various factions, some of them clearly deviant. He also bribed judges to overlook his two psyker sons; from what I found out, both were rendered comatose as a result of being in Snow's presence for a brief time, and they were both given the Emperor's mercy."

"We are going to search for a stolen Tzeentchian statue; Chatham had described it as being three-headed, with the head of a falcon, a man and a serpent on the body of an unknown bird. He had reported that it was stolen a few weeks after Erkan's death from an apartament in St. Antigone District.

Snow had helpfully supplied a few details about Erkan's connections with Bantangos, the headmaster of her school. She had told me that the subject had aided in bringing these items to Epsilon Regalis by accepting bribes from a variety of purchasers; from what we could find we have two known buyers.

The first one, Bantangos is someone that we already know about, from what Marcella told us. He also accepted bribes from various families to keep their members in school, despite the danger these people posed to the populace. A prominent example was the only daughter of the PDF general Mithras Hesslocher and his wife. The girl was removed from school a few days into eighth grade as per Chatham's orders, despite Bantangos's attempts to bribe him.

The second one is a male individual from the nobility who purchased a Halo Device a few weeks ago; it was in the form of a bracer. We need to be on the lookout for such a person," Ruhr Foules had explained.

"I might need to inform the Deathwatch about this trading ring; Something about this scenario is troubling me. Why would a worshipper of the Changer of ways be in such deep cahoots with a xeno trading ring?" Malarchos's booming voice was grim.

"Good question, Astartes. I've begun thinking that there might be more to this frakked-up mess," Snow had injected her own insight in the conversation.

The rest were simply speechless; the girl was quite intelligent for her age. Even her father was amazed by Marcella's ability to quickly figure out things. Julores's eyes darted around the group; sighing she had the feeling that this misson would be long, complicated and messy.

* * *

 **I Am Alpharius: Something YOU need to note. Marcella is an anomaly among the Pariahs; this is because she was brought up in a loving home that made her the way she is. Most Pariahs are psychopathic BECAUSE they were abused, both psychologically and physically as children by the people around them.**

 **To make a point, DEWARK COSSACH, the school bully is what Marcella would have turned out like if she was rejected and abused. I haved implied that the boy was abused by his father and watched his mother get beaten. This had resulted in him having serious psychological problem, including psychopathy and psychotic episodes.**

 **First I've done my research on serial killers. Many of them came from abusive homes, and often underwent serious psychological, physical and sexual abuse. This caused them to develop maladaptive coping mechanisms; like the urge to act out their urges to kill upon hapless victims.**

 **SO my arguments trumps yours. Soulless doesn't ALWAYS equal psychopathic. Maybe you need to delve into the deeper psychology of what REALLY make a serial killer tick.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **St. Bekendictos District, Hive Scintilla, Epsilon Regalis**

Marcella Snow snuck down the hallways of the Mosslech Estates; the long, winding hallways were painted a dreary gray, and there were peeling paints in a few spots. The once-grand doors were made of artificial oak grown on a nearby agriworld, and numbers in Low Gothic were embossed on the brass plates of each door. They had been in a state of neglect for the last ten years, ever since the owners of this particular place had been kicked out by Erasmus Belkat during a nasty turf dispute between him and an old rival.

 _17754...17755..17756...17758...17759...17760._

She was accompanied by Baltir Chatham, Dagon Lachirus, Cassius Malarchos and Ruhr Foules; the girl had suggested that they investigate this particular apartment for more clues on Erkan's dealings.

The teen begun picking the lock on the door numbered 17760; when the click of a lock unlocking was audible, she opened the door. Gesturing to Dagon to go first the aforementioned assassin had pulled out his Exitus pistol. Turning on the night vision of his spy mask, he moved in, inspecting the pentagonal foyer he could see that there were three doors. One obviously led to a bathroom; the faucets were rusted, while the mirror above the sink was broken. Turning around, he saw a mystery string of numerals written on the side wall above the toilet.

 _34, 56, 77, 89, 60, 64;_ he read the numbers aloud.

"It must be some combination code for a safe somewhere around here," Ruhr had pointed out, "He must had put these so he would remember it."

"I agree, Foules, it must be quite important. Erkan would have done this so he would have quick access to whatever illegal artifacts or tome he had gotten his greasy hands on," Marcella agreed, "Mother was never fond of the jackass. He often lied to her and even stole paperwork that she had planned to file against him."

"I distinctly recall one Adeptas Adminstrium clerk that I had the displeasure of dispatching, Snow. He was just like your Erkan; corrupt, ruthless and an utter asshole. His name, if I remember correctly was Boren Abydos. He tried to have me and my team assassinated while I was working undercover to end a xenos and demonic artifact ring that he had established nearly sixty years ago. To say it mildly after I had killed the mercs who went after us, I blew his head off with my bolter pistol," Cassius replied.

"I'm not surprised that you had such an encounter with a frakker like him," she had nodded in agreement, "For each corrupt dickass dispatched, another greedy motherfrakker pops out in another place."

"Very observant, Snow. It's _like_ a _giant game_ of _**whac-o-mole**_ ," Dagon had added his own thoughts into the fray.

"I once dealt with one clown called Motha'Lu Chablis. She had embezzled some money from a housing project currently in construction. I sniffed out clues on where the money went; it led to the disgraced Hygthoran clan. To catch the bitch in her own lies, I manipulated events by posing as a sympathetic supporter; when she thought she had won I stole the evidence and handed it in to Taremann. She endured weeks of torture at his hands in an attempt to break her. It was a success and her babbling exposed other officials, including Erkan," the arbitator-in-training answered, tugging at her front strand as usual.

Ruhr Foules had an expression of amazement at the direction that this conversation was going in; it turned out that each of the individuals had past encounters with people like Erkan.

For Dagon it had been Silas Burroughs. He had sent mercenaries from renegade Adeptus Astartes chapters to kill the Vindicare, and it was an act that this fool had paid for dearly. A clearly incensed Dagon had captured him, slowly tortured the idiot over a length of three days to get more information on where his objective had escaped to before he had slathered the man in honey and milk; he then hung him from a tree with the intent to let various insects and animals feast on his body bit by bit. This incident had gained Dagon some measure of infamy among his fellow assassins; they had been amazed by his gall to punish a traitor in such a painful manner.

For Chatham, it was obviously Erkan, as well as another crooked official that he had sentenced to Servitude Imperpituis a few years ago after he had extorted businesses and stole servitors from a tech-priest.

The Inquisitor found himself recalling one particular encounter he had the dubious honor of dealing with. It had involved a Chaos-tainted Inquisitor called Mikael Borreas. He was a follower of the polypsykana philosophy. When Ruhr had been assigned to hunt the traitorous frakker down, the man had quickly discovered that his quarry had friends in high places willing to send hired killers to off Ruhr.

It had gotten so bad that Foules had reached out to the Officio Assassinorum to obtain a Callidus assassin to kill Borreas; the man, although genre-savvy enough to expect many moves from Ruhr, didn't see this coming. She had posed as a member of his sorcerous circle, and planted misleading ideas in his head that had ended up wiping out a great many number of his followers before she had impaled him through the heart with her C'tan phase blade.

When she had returned from the mission, she had remarked, "Corrupt fools, always ruining the Imperium one way or another."

Ruhr knew that Dagon Lachirus, Cassius Malarcho and Marcella Snow had shared the same sentiment regarding their various run-ins with corruption in the Adeptus Administrium.

The aforementioned girl had opened the door on the right; it had led into a small living room. The moldy couch on her left had been abandoned for a long time, while the recaf table had teetered from side to side; the legs were clearly broken. The ugly pink rug had several rips and tears in it, while a small chest had rested on a console table under a torn painting of a koi pond.

Marcella took out her lock picks; after picking this particular box's locks she found numerous opened letters. Opening one, her face blanched.

 _M41.997_

 _To Aballen Erkan,_

 _I hope we can meet again under the infinite gazes of the Changer of Ways. Time is growing short, and we has already begun to set up the bases for the new coven. Atum Sum has sent me some of his tomes on sorcery; as we correspond, I have begun to procure allegiance of other Tzeteenchian warbands._

 _The Corpse god is unworthy, he is hungry, oppressive and the Imperium stagnates in it own filth. These Inquisitional fools has no idea that change is inevitable and it will come, one way or the other. They try to keep the cult of the false messiah afloat, but eventually it will collapse upon itself._

 _I hope to keep them at bay as long as I can._

 _Colby Rhasc_

 _M41.005_

 _Aballen Erkhan_

 _Here is the basics on the gifts of your sons; from what you have wrote to us, your elder son is a diviner and younger son a biomancer._

 _The most basic combat skill a diviner might learn is the divine shot. In it the person use his future sight to trigulate where the target is most likely to appear. To refine this skill, you need to instruct your son in the basics of divination. I have already enclosed instructions on various exercises in a second envelope._

 _For the biomancers, they first learn the principles of bio-electricity; it is a living energy that is contained in every being touched by the warp. To pull upon one's own internal energies, it requires a strong centre. I have written instructions in how to find this centre in another paper in this letter._

 _As your sons become more accustomed to their abilities, I will send more lessons on their powers. Then they have accumulated enough mastery of their powers they will learn the basics of sorcery._

 _Colby Rhasc_

When Marcella had shown Foules the letters, he had instantly recognized the name; it was another traitorous Polypsykana Inquisitor, Colby Rhasc, father to one Klara Rhasc of the Callidus temple. He had converted to Tzeentchian worship after suffering a series of disappointing defeats in M41.981, and had turned his back on his former allies, slaughtering them with his potent psychic powers.

When the Inquisition had sent agents after him he had fled into the Eye of Terror, joining up with the Thousand Sons and the Black Legion. During the current Black crusade, he had been responsible for the deaths of several Officio Assassinorum operatives; one of them had been Ruhr Foules's own twin brother, Abel, a Vindicare assassin with moderate biomancy powers. When he had found out, he had grieved for days over him, and vowed that he would avenge his fallen sibling.

Ever since, Ruhr Foules had been pursuing the man all over the galaxy in an attempt to kill him. He didn't want to call upon the Culexus temple, as he wanted to be the one to personally end the bastard's own pathetic life.

Abel Foules had been a constant in his life; after their Imperial navy parents mysteriously vanished during an excursion to Vahalla, the boys was taken into the Schola Progenium, where they showed exceptional talents. The Vindicare temple had chosen Abel because of his cold, withdrawn demeanor, while Ruhr was turned over to the inquisition after he had begun to show signs of being a powerful biomancer.

But however during Abel's training he had accidentally discovered his own powers, and as a result he had been turned over to the Adeptus Astra Telepathica for training. This had caused a sudden disruption in his lessons, and he had spent three years on a wyrdvane squad learning to control his powers. Fortunately for the young boy, another Vindicare had been attached to the Imperial Guardsmen regiment for his last campaign as one, and he had continued them, albeit in secret and away from prying eyes.

Foules had recalled that his brother's spy mask had an azure stripe down the centre of it to identify him as a sanctioned psyker, and additional modifications to his suit to withstand the pressures of his psychic powers. Even after many years, the Inquisitor had missed Abel's silent, brooding presence. The grief was a huge, depressing burden on his shoulders.

"What Aballen Erkan was trying to do is quite stupid, even by Inquisitional standards. The fact that he had the gall to train his sons without the supervision of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica really irks me," Marcella had snarled; This had broke Ruhr from his reverie.

"I'm afraid that I have to agree with you on that count. The fact that Aballen Erkan wanted to establish a coven of sorcerers with his sons at the helm had proved to me that the man is in fact an irresponsible fool," he spat out.

"The greed of men has absolutely no bounds," the girl nodded. There were murmurs of agreement among the rest of the group.

* * *

Denton Briar sighed for the umpteenth time; the fact that the Erkan brothers had hid from the black ships hadn't been lost upon the Inquisitor; he had suspected that they had did it deliberately in order to keep secrets that Aballen Erkan had tried to keep concealed. The fact that the man was a Tzeentchian worshipper wasn't lost upon him; in Briar's opinion, the Changer of Ways had befitted the man's scheming, avaricious personality perfectly, as evidenced by the fact that Erkan had back-stabbed and deceived his way through the hierarchy of the Adeptus Administratium.

He had discovered evidence that Erkan had his sights firmly on the seat of planetary governor; but it was fortunate in Briar's opinion that the man had been offed before he could reach that level. And the fact that Marcella had weakened Toramon and Erak to the point that the Adeptus arbites was able to kill these boys while they were comatose had a hint of irony, as it was the female pariah's presence that had clearly untangled one of the Architect of Fate's countless schemes before it had a chance to come to full fruition.

"There's an auction going up at Barret's Auctions and Sales; there's a bunch of interesting things that I want to get my hand on," one man piped up in the bar that Briar was currently visiting, "there is a statue that I want to buy. It's a three-headed one, with a serpent, human and bird aspects. I think it would make a nice conversation piece in the house."

"I'm purchasing the Red widow; it's a really old statue that had been passed down from Hygthoran to Hygthoran for centuries. But when the Inquisition had seized the family's assets, they had sold this statue, alongside countless jewelry, an expensive wedding gown that had been commissioned by the eldest daughter for her wedding to Barrett Caldwell, various ingots of gold and silver and a huge collection of fine wines from all over the galaxy. The Emperor-damned family in question had tried to take all their possessions back by force, but over 2/3 of them were turned into arco-flagellants after the Inquisitor overlooking the liquidation of their assets had received details of the plans from his psyker," a second man had replied.

"What of this wedding? Did it happen?," the first man's question was intriguing, in Briar's opinion. He found himself listening closer to the discussion, even as he fidgeted with a fang necklace that Cassius Malarchos had gave him for his birthday three years ago.

"It never happened. The poor girl was abducted by a jealous suitor a few days before it happened. Whatever occurred during the time she was with him, left her a broken, sobbing wreck, and it also turned out that Caldwell had conspired with this person to have her kidnapped so he could marry Mina Tyrell, a childhood friend instead," the second man had replied matter-of-factly.

"I also know that the wedding dress was sold the same day she was taken. It went to the Drasus family of Benilarii V. It has since became a treasured heirloom passed down from mother to daughter. They deserved to have that dress; they are a well-respected family, compared to the Hygthorans's scheming and backstabbing ways," a third man had interjected into the conversation.

It was in that moment that Briar had realized that he had located the statue that Judge Chatham had mentioned was stolen; it was at an auction house. Standing up from his bar stool, he had gestured to Landros, Julores, Taremann and Vijay.

"It seems that we have found Judge Chatham's statue. From what I've heard, it's at an auction house," he told them.

"Why is this blasted statue so vital?" Landros, a pale, gaunt man with violet eyes and large ears that stuck out, questioned the Inquisitior.

"We need this statue to open some secret hiding place in an apartment in St. Antigone district, Landros," he replied.

"From what I could divine from the Emperor's tarot cards, Erkan's past was filled with resentment. Whatever happened to him, it shaped his greedy ways. I drew the warped renegade, the reversed High Priest, and the Daemon. The reversed high Priest mean he has been dabbling in forbidden mysteries, while the warp renegade indicates disillusionment with the Imperial cult. The Daemon represents forbidden deals; maybe he may had made deals with other Chaos cults?" Bhallar Vijay, a dark-skinned man with black eyes and long limbs explained as he showed the group what he had gleaned.

"Makes sense," Denton Briar noted, "I suspect that he intended to use the xenos artifact trading rings as a way to cover up more nefarious imports. But the fact that he was killed before he could do so was fortunate for us. Less work cleaning up that mess."

* * *

Marcella Snow sorted through the letters with Ruhr Foules's and Judge Chatham's help: Each one had been indexed in order of date, subject and the correspondent.

"So it seems that Aballen Erkan was a nasty, greedy frakker. Every time I look upon these letters I can only think of how desperately he wanted power, to the point that he would willingly betray the Imperium," she spoke up, rubbing her nose.

"Desperation can breed dark deals that demons would exploit to their advantage," Foules's answer was grim.

Standing up, she walked into the bedroom of the apartment; from what she had saw, the bed was a rickety old one, and it was on it last legs, while the bookshelf across from it had a secret compartment that held a safe; Dagon had discovered that pulling nine books out in a specific order he caused the bottommost shelves to slide out of the way to reveal this safe.

Using the combination he had seen, he opened the safe; inside it was an old recording servo-skull, several drafts of sermons exhorting Tzeentch's "virtues", a ritual dagger, and five personal journals.

Marcella had read the entries; from these writings she had concluded that Erkan was filled with envy and resentment; He had been repeatedly snubbed by his superiors despite the fact that he believed he was competent.

But in reality, Erkan was anything but; he had often mixed up records and often forgot to place papers and files in its proper places. This often had serious consequences. When he had misfiled a paper on the Foremanus system over fifty years ago it had caused the planets in question to fall under Chaotic influence. This event had ended with the _destruction_ of the _entire system_ as per Inquisitional command.

Ruhr Foules had told her this after he had asked for Chatham and her mother to actually investigate the man further to uncover any more instance of incompetency in his duties. They had swiftly brought in more records; as Foules had looked over them, Marcella had noted that his face had become even more stern and somewhat angry.

It had become clear to the girl why the superiors of the Adeptus Administrium had often passed over Aballen Erkan for promotion, and with good reasons. Marcella had agreed with their decisions; she knew that in the Imperium incompetency often had severe consequences. Foules had told her that countless planetary governors had been executed because of this flaw over the many millennia that the Imperium of Man had existed.

Looking over to Judge Chatham and her mother, Marcella had found herself reflecting on her life; she had been lucky to be raised in a loving home and it was Mother that had taught her right from wrong. This was why when Marcella saw that heretic preacher at age 3, she knew he was bad news; being raised with loving care and discipline had helped her know what was right and good and vice versa.

She knew that Mother had taught her it was wrong to hit and kick people for no reason when she was a child, and that animals, like her deserved to be treated nicely. This had been instrumental in the school tolerating her maddening presence, as she often stood up to the bullies in order to keep other people from being hurt.

The girl also had a deep hatred of injustice; the fact that Aballen Erkan had often abused his powers had deeply angered Marcella and with good reason. The man's manipulative personality would have eventually end up being the demise of Epsilon Regalis, if it wasn't for that death-cult assassin.

She had once scoffed at one man's feeble attempt to bribe Chastener Taremann; this yutz had found himself being dragged off to the torture chambers in the Fortress-Precinct as per his orders. Marcella had overheard his screams during her afternoon training period, and she didn't even pity the frakker; he was well-known for bribing various Imperial officials in order to overlook certain things that she wouldn't dare name in polite company.

"Mother, Erkan sure had it coming. He was one hell of a dicktard, and from what I hear from everybody, they hated him," she had interjected as she stepped toward Baltir and Mother. Both were clearly lost in their thoughts.

"I absolutely despised him. He always lied to me and my cohorts. And there were times he tried to weasel his way out of some arrest by blaming it on one of his underlings. It was somewhat successful, but we all knew that he eventually would meet the Emperor's justice one way or another," Chatham nodded, crossing his arm in contemplation.

"Erkan was clearly out for himself; the fact that he would selfishly keep his sons out of the psyker tithes speaks a lot to his character," Mother replied.

"I agree on that point. The fact that Aballen Erkan constantly schemed to backstab his superiors so he could move up a level or two reminds me of these crime lords who move up the ladder by cutting down their rivals," Foules had inserted his own take, "I've had encounters with these fools before. And the fact that he wanted to set up a coven of sorcerors in this hive speaks a lot to how deceitful he was."

"Dupliticious, idiotic bastard," Cassius had added, "I wouldn't even trust the frakker with a single coin from my own account!"

"Agreed," Dagon replied icily, his voice a chilling monotone.

Marcella could only hope the person who took over Erkan's post was a competent person who would be willing to repair all of the imbecile's mistakes.

* * *

Julores Ronnherig looked around the bar; she had been watching the various patrons for the last two hours. In one corner, an obese patron was drunkenly raving about how Epsilon Regalis deserves better and that it should rise up in rebellion; Taremann had headed toward the fool with the intention to neutralize the seditious imbecile. Another man next to him was clearly afraid; he had tried to stop the aforementioned man from going on this rant, but it had been a failure judging by the arbitator's reaction.

He had took out his shock maul; a third man had tackled him with the attempt to disarm the subject, but Taremann had struck with it, hard. The unfortunate bastard's head had caved in with an audible CRACK sound. He quickly got back up, and pulled off a roundhouse kick that had knocked three more patrons off their feet before he had knocked each one out with the maul, before returning to his route toward this man.

Taremann then pulled the man to his feet by the collar; threatening him with the maul, this patron had wet his pants, before he had babbled out his confession that he was planning for a riot to occur in two weeks with his friends. The arbitator was clearly not _pleased_ by the idea, and had slapped a set of restraints on the fool.

Julores had watched this scene play out from her barstool; she had thought Taremann had reminded her of her father; cold, hard and unsentimental. She had lost count of how many times foolish idiots like that jackass had tried to obstruct the Vindicare, only to find themselves hopelessly outclassed. One particular incident had occurred on Necromunda; when the heretic demagogue of a local parish had sent killers after them with the intent to buy some time for him to flee off-planet, the assassin had totally slaughtered each one with his Exitus pistol before he had shot down the shuttlecraft his objective was on with his rifle. The vessel had spiraled downwards, clearly smoking, before it had crashed into a nearby habitation block. This had killed nearly 400 people as a result; and the planetary governor was clearly not pleased with her father, as well as the Officio Assassinorum. But when Dagon had explained why he had did it they had relented as he had accomplished his objective.

She had grew up moving from place to place, following him as he had conducted various black-ops missions on various worlds. Some of them were assassinations, other intelligence-gathering and survelliance, and yet others had involved sabotage of some kind. She had seen that some of the results of her father's work weren't pretty; she had seen the brains of many of these victim blown out of their skulls by the sheer force of the rounds he used.

It was no wonder that she understood the fearsome reputation that the agents of the Officio Assassinorum often had; it often deterred idiots from interfering with their duties. But these few who often tried in one way or another, to obstruct such an operative often suffered horrific consequences, from either the assassin in question killing them or the Ordos Sicarious interrogating them before slowly and painfully dispatching them.

Although Julores loved her father, he could be quite abrasive and cold at times. This was a stark constrast with her warm and cheerful persona, even though both were blood relatives. She had suspected that she had inherited her temperament from her late mother.

She was about to order another drink when she saw the other group, consisting of Snow, Chatham, Foules, Tyrell, Malarchos and her father; they were walking down the street toward the bar the group was in.

From the moment Julores had met Snow, she had found her presence extremely uncomfortable, but the fact that the girl had the audacity to call out some of the politicans in the Gehenna sector for their corrupt ways had endeared her to the young woman.

During her brief time time with Snow, the girl had told her that her mother had taught that it was wrong to hurt innocents, but that the guilty was fair game. Marcella had also told Julores that she had found recently that she had a knack for both investigation and torture, something that Chastener Taremann had encouraged as he saw the need for a second Chastener to deal with some of the seditious elements.

Although Marcella was honest, she could be to the point that it infuriated people, even when the facts was staring them in the face. But even Julores could recognize that Marcella's upbringing had made her an outlier among the pariahs; most were jerks, but the girl was actually the opposite, save for a mild sociopathic streak that only appeared when she needed to lay upon the pain to someone in order to get some information.

The girl had once told her about the time she had exposed two of her fellow students for stealing things from other students; to extract the confession she had deliberately exposed these two to her own aura. They had instantly broke down and begun babbling the details of where they had stashed the stolen items; afterwards they were sent to the Precinct-Fortress to begin a brief stint in jail.

"Mother once told me that male-only sectors of penal worlds had an alarmingly high rates of male-on-male rape, so I theorized, would other instiuitions with male-only memberships be the same? I did some research; I found some accounts from Storm trooper regiments and Adeptus Custodes, and a few of these written accounts had mentioned sexual abuse from fellow trainees during the formative years, and some of the victims had serious aversions to sexual intercourse as a result. To add insult to injury, many of the people who had wound up in these professions had been sent there as a way to break their ego. I had long suspected that the training of both Storm troopers and Adeptus Custodes had psychological parts that was intended to break even the most stalwart of men, so they could be rebuilt anew and stronger. I thought it often involves physical and mental torture, and maybe even sexual for some of these unfortunate souls. Most of these who go through the process come out bat-shit crazy; they are subsequently turned into servitors aiding the Adeptus Terra and Inquisition, while these few remaining survivors are humbled, even a bit broken by their experiences," Marcella had been conversing with Foules about the abnormally high rates of male-on-male rape in male-dominated sectors; Malarchos had added some of his own insights as well.

"I've heard that the members of the Adeptus Custodes had some pretty weird quirks; From one of the stories my mentor had told me, he once remarked that they had a tendency to dress in some pretty skimpy outfits, and even cut their hair in a certain way. He once told me that when he had been forced to sleep in quarters near the sectors where most of them were located, he overheard pleasured moans from their rooms," Ruhr Foules had replied.

The rest of the group were flabbergasted; Even Denton Briar, the Inquisitor his father worked under had his jaw drop comically low. It was little wonder that what Ruhr Foules had implied with his master's anecdote had not been lost upon the entire group.

Julores could only gape in amazement at the revelation.

* * *

 **You forget one thing; I intended Marcella to be an outlier among her kind. You pointed out cases of Pariahs being jerkasses. I wanted to show another angle; a pariah who is psychologically stable, is not cruel and actually being a decent being is also possible. Why? It all have to come down on nature and nuture. When Myrcella Tyrell chose to raise Marcella Snow herself, she took upon it to teach her daughter right from wrong, although it had took some considerable effort.**

 **She was curious to see if a pariah could be taught empathy and morality; in this case, the experiment had worked because she had put a lot of effort in raising Marcella.**

 **There are outliers in every group; it is a scientific reality. Some people are outliers because they have traits that most people in that demographic lack. This adds variation to a group, and make it more interesting as a whole.**

 **And btw, I dropped a reference to the If the Emperor had a Text-to-speech timeline; it's hiliarous.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Behind Barret's Sales and Auctions**

Ambriok Gauillier, a spindly man with an unattractive, gaunt face and an endless slouch leaned back against the back wall of the alley he was in; he took out a packet of lho out of his red grox leather vest.

Next to him, Xen Boreggos, a squat, and somewhat goofy-looking man sat on an old, worn out bench next to him; he hunched over, clearly annoyed.

"Why do the Emperor-frakked boss demand so much from us?" he groaned.

"We're the most reliable staff members on his payroll, Xen. All the others are either incompetent or lazy," He snapped back; he found his partner's endless questioning extremely irritating. Puffing on a lho pipe Ambriok sighed.

It had been been two years since he was hired by Barret Gulchan to work in this Emperor-forsaken place; his previous employer had been taken away by the Adeptus Arbites after he had discovered a cache of heretic writings, including one copy of _Astrological Musings and Analysis_ by one Lenas Scard. This particular book had been banned by the Inquisition in M38.003 soon before the unfortunate heretic fool's own demise; the man had wanted to keep it, but the Arbites had quickly got wind of it because of a loose-lipped fellow employee. Cue massive raid that killed half of the workers of this particular business and left the other part maimed; Ambriok had his left arm amputated at the elbow after a particularly powerful thrust from a shock maul completely shattered his forearm.

Xen had also been hired at the same time as him; He had once been employed under Motha'Lu Chablis, but when she was arrested by the Arbites for corruption, he had fled her offices and changed residences. The man was a fugitive; Ambriok had seen wanted posters of the man on the bulletin boards of the St. Bekendictos and St. Antigone districts.

He didn't even bother ratting his fellow employee out; Ambriok knew that the man was caught up in a similar situation as him, and it wasn't right that they were still hunting him down.

"I'm going to take a p-" he was promptly interrupted as a pair of black-clad arms reached out of seemingly nowhere and wrapped themselves around him in a headlock that was aimed at incapacitating Ambriok. He tried to dislodge these limbs, but the amputee had found that they were unusually vigorous, and extremely resistant to his struggles to pull them off. He slowly begun to black out, even as he fought to keep conscious; in a few seconds he had lost that battle.

* * *

Denton Briar cued the entire group to come out of the shadows; he had disabled the first worker with a headlock and used his needler pistol to incapacitate the second. The first was Baltir Chatham and Landros, who was on lookout duty, while Marcella Snow and Julores Ronnherig had descended upon the unconscious bodies and begun searching the pockets for the keys to the buildings. Taremann, Myrcella Tyrell and Cassius Malarchos followed next; they knew their duties. Dagon Lachirus and Bhullar Vijay were to stay as far away as possible; they were in support roles for this particular mission. Foules was not here; Marcella had directed him to a few potential locations for the Slaaneshi cult.

"I've found the keys, Briar," Julores picked up a ring with forty-two keys in various shapes and sizes. She gave it to the Inquisitor, who used it to unlock the back room door.

Entering the building, they found themselves in a large, L-shaped room. The concrete walls were painted a slate gray; hung on it were various shelves holding various small boxes of all shapes. On the right of the group there were six rows of warehouse shelving; each pair was painted red, yellow and white, with each colour being an indicator to what was being stashed in each shelves. Snow had found a guide to the hue-coding system on a nearby bulletin board.

 _Imperial Red- food supplies, weapons, everyday clothing, tech_

 _Saffron Yellow- Holy icons of obscure saints, semi-formal clothing, cheap jewelry, semi-precious stones._

 _Snow White- Art, expensive jewelry, precious stones, holy icons of the Emperor and famous saints, gold and silver ingots and formal attire._

"Maybe we should look in the yellow and white sections, Briar," the pariah had spoke up as she pointed toward the aforementioned poster.

Briar had merely nodded toward the girl; from his observations, she was quite intelligent and had a good memory, as she was able to precisely recall where she had found the location of the Slaaneshi cult. The typical psychopathic tendencies of most pariahs were noticeably absent in Marcella Snow's character; instead she had several autistic traits, like the photographic memory and the fact that she could recall any passages from Imperium law perfectly. It was little wonder that the Adeptus Arbites had been interested in her, as she had shown a remarkably good understanding of the arcane subject, compared to her peers.

Myrcella Tyrell, the girl's mother had told him that the girl was chosen to advance a level in arbitatoral training; it was because the girl was a prodigy. In a few years's time the woman believed that the girl would be a powerful and feared law-enforcer in her own right. She also believed that Snow's terrible aura would prove to be a powerful deterrent for many people, as they wouldn't want to be caught by a _soul_ _l_ _ess_ lawgiver.

But Briar had thought otherwise; the girl would make an excellent assassin, based on her intelligence and the fact that she had shown some good observational skills. This was a necessary skill as many Imperial assassins needed to be able to analyze their targets in order to locate them, and kill them as swiftly as possible.

There were two particularly infamous incidents that had tested the agents on these cases; They had occurred on Samos and Chellan X respectively.

When the president of Samos, Faisal Mahmoud tried to secede from the Imperium eighty years ago, 13-X, a Vindicare assassin, had been sent; he had waited for his target on a ledge of Samos's Ministry of Finance building. But when the agent had took the shot to kill his target, it turned out that Mahmoud had used one of his men as a decoy with a holo-field. This had resulted in a chase involving hundreds of place guards and four Thunderhawks, one of which the aforementioned assassin had destroyed with his rifle. But luckily for the man, a rendezvous vehicle had shown up and destroyed the rest. He took advantage of his target's obsession with micromanagement, and sniped him where he was commanding his guard and killed the bastard with a well-aimed shot before fleeing on it.

On Chellan X, the Culexus assassin Sigma had been assigned to kill a Beta-level psyker called Kallia Leghrogen. She had seized control of the world a few months earlier, and had been attempting to establish a refuge for rogue psykers on the world; he had been brought in to kill her. But however, a devastating epidemic of a rare bacterial illness had begun to spread on the world; It was extremely contagious and it begin to spread among the populace. The earliest symptoms were fever and a persistent cough, with a distinct whooping sound. As this infection progressed, the victim begun to cough up bloody mucus, and their breathing became weak and labored. The last stages ended with the person drowning in his own bloodied lungs, as the bacterial infection in question had caused the blood vessels in the lungs to burst asunder.

Sigma had been among these who had caught the illness; He was severely weakened by it. In order to accomplish his objective the assassin had been forced to depend upon proxies, and he was able to succeed in his mission by convincing a palace guardsman to betray Leghrogen by killing her while she was sleeping.

Afterwards, the man had spent three months in a quarantine ward on the planet; he was not allowed to initiate contact with his superiors until the disease was sufficiently cleared from his body. The fact that he was an agent of the Officio Assassinorum mean that the two nurses attending to him during his illness had to be mind-wiped after they had completed their duties.

Briar was broken out of his thoughts by Snow, Malarchos and Ronneherig's snickering; looking over to the trio, they were laughing at a rather outlandish dress; it was red, orange and white with an asymmetrical skirt, exaggerated puffy sleeves, huge Elizabethan collar and polka dots. The fasteners on the front were covered with orange pom-poms, while the bodice had a low-cut sweetheart neck.

"Oh, great. The girl wearing this dress must be sitting prettily!" Snow's sarcastic remark had caused the other two to howl in laughter.

"She would make the best-dressed bitch this side of the planet," Ronnherig had expanded on the girl's snarky train of thought.

Briar could only suppress a chuckle at the comments; today wasn't the time to laugh.

* * *

Marcella Snow looked around the warehouse shelving; the monstrosity of a dress that she had saw was on her left. When she had saw it she couldn't help but snicker at the thing; it reminded her of the outfits that cross-dressing performers at the homosexual bars in her district often wore. Malarchos had agreed; he had also seen these outfits when he was a young boy.

Stepping between the aisles, she saw a strange red statue of a figure that was clearly feminine in form; it seemed to be frozen in a writhing pose. On its pedestal was the words "THE RED WIDOW", emblazoned in all-caps. Another figure, this one in golden polished stone was that of a sitting woman playing a clavichord. Next to these two was a large chest of blackwood; it looked to be 57 inches long, 38 inches high and the same measurement as the length wide. After picking the keyhole on this chest with her lockpicking kit she found several heretical books on the four Chaos Gods, several xenos artifacts, and a mysterious puzzle box that was 30 inches long, 23 inches across and 18 inches deep.

Signaling to Briar to show him what she had found; he had frowned in distaste at what the girl had found.

Turning to the box, she fiddled with the box for over half an hour, pulling parts of the box one way, then the other; she repeated the process a second time before the top slid away to reveal a bunch of amulets shaped in the star of Chaos.

"It seems that the owner of this chest was in cahoots with the Ruinous Powers," Marcella turned toward the Inquisitor.

"It's a likely conclusion, Snow. Someone was planning to distribute these to potential followers; it is a good thing that we got to these unholy artifacts first," Briar nodded.

She stood up; moving further down the aisle, she noted a smaller crate that was obviously locked. The lock was clearly a combination lock; scrawled on the crate was the numbers, 09, 36, 54, 108, 36.

Using them she unlocked it; in it was a turquoise three-headed statue. The head on the left was formed in the shape of a snarling cobra; it looked like it was about to spit venom at any time, while the middle was of a sneering male head. The remaining head was a squawking falcon. The body was a generic bird, and it looked like was about to take flight from the pentagonal base it was on.

"This must be the statue Chatham had described, Briar. You'll have to confirm this with him," the teenage girl turned toward the Inquisitor.

He nodded wordlessly before picking up a folded piece of paper; unfurling it, Marcella could clearly see that it was a list of names.

 _Abel Valvalgros_

 _Azrael Chaldrin_

 _Colby Bantangos_

 _Contessa Ballins_

 _Elijah Marchesa_

 _Echylos Zachivarah_

 _Helga Ruh_

 _Mikael Ruh_

 _Valerie Mengele_

 _Vonderous Chalices_

 _Xen Tyr-Vos_

 _Xander Williams_

 _ **WHAM!**_

Marcella was about to open her mouth to discuss the aforementioned list when she was startled by the sound; turning around she could clearly see a mortified Cassius Malarchos sprawled out on the floor; next to his armoured boot was a rotten banana peel. She concluded that the Adepta Astartes had slipped on the object, and it was something that she couldn't help but laugh out loud at. Even Briar had joined in the fun, his chuckles joining into the cacophony of laughter from the rest of the group.

When the giggles had died down, Cassius had stood up, clearly covering his face in embarrassment. Marcella had understood that the Adeptus Astartes were not used to being the laughing stock of such events; They were _bred_ for war, not _comedy_.

"This reminds me of a funny story about a Dark Angel and a Crimson Fist that my mentor worked with for a few years nearly eighty years ago. The Dark Angel was a straight man; he didn't want the Crimson Fist to frak things up, but the fact was that this particular individual had a penchant for finding trouble where he went. This had led the aforementioned marine to bash his companion in the head for his antics. These scenes were quite entertaining, and my master had recognized the trademarks of a straight man and wise guy act in these two. As a result, during many infiltration missions in the Deathwatch these two were often employed as comedians in order to draw the people's attention away from the team's actual objective," Briar had reminisced as he turned toward Malarchos.

"REALLY!?," the Iron Fist's jaw had dropped comically low.

"It's a true story; if my mentor was still alive he would have attested to the facts stated," the Inquisitor had nodded, "But now's not the time to exchange humorous stories."

"That list have the headmaster of my school's name on it, so it is officially confirmed that this may be a list of potential buyers," Marcella nodded toward Briar.

The man seemed impressed by her deduction; he was clearly scrutinizing her. The teenage girl was not comfortable with the attention.

Returning her attention to the strange statue, Marcella sighed; she had decided a long time ago that she would pursue her dreams of being an arbitator. The fact that the Adeptus Arbites had seen her talents in Imperial law studies would go a long way in helping her reach her goals. But little did she know that the Imperium of Man had other plans for her.

* * *

Dagon Lachirus sat on the ledge of the roof overlooking Barret's Sales and Auctions; he could clearly see that the building was slightly rundown; it had peeling orange paint in several places and one of the letters of the sign was hanging from a corner. The door had several gouges and scratches from various weapons and items being stuck into it over the years, while one of the panes on it was obviously broken.

The shop front had a broken mannequin displayed in the front; he couldn't help but think of it as a metaphor for the Imperium itself. Everything about it was broken, from the Administrium to the armies itself. War had a way of eroding a man's mind over the years he lived; the Vindicare had personally seen the battle-fatigued staring out from lacklustre eyes. And the fact that war was not the glorious thing Imperial propaganda had made it out to be was only made it more tragic.

Dagon knew that the years of killing for his masters would have taken a toll upon his mind if it wasn't for his daughter. The girl had been a huge help in snapping him out of his nightmares when she was a child, and her joyful giggles and yells while playing had help him take his mind off the darker things he had to do for the Imperium.

During one mission in particular he had to kill a demonically possessed young girl the same age as Julores. She was a powerful psyker, and she had accidentally let a Lord of Change into her mind during a play-date. Her parents, her companions and their sires had been killed as a result, and when Denton Briar heard of this event, he had ordered Dagon to assassinate her in to minimize the potential damage to the town they were in. He had to snipe the girl from a ledge while she met with a pair of Tzeetenchian cultists; they scattered when she dropped dead from the round that had lodged itself in her head.

It still gave him nightmares, killing that small girl. He knew that it could be Julores or any other parent's child, but the fact was that this girl was a hazard to the aforementioned place still didn't sit well with the assassin and Inquisitor.

He found his thought wandering toward Marcella Snow. The soulless girl was unlike the Culexus he had encountered in his working life; Most of them were unrepentant killers. Once on a mission, he had encountered Noctus Kord; the man enjoyed killing his targets with an unadulterated glee that Dagon had found unnerving, and the fact that this individual could slowly stalk his prey to the point that it caused them unbrindled terror wasn't lost on him.

But Noctus Kord had one thing in common with him and it was the fact that the man had fathered a child entirely by accident. During an after-party that had celebrated the end of a cult on some planet Dagon didn't know the name of, Kord had got drunk and slept with the Inquisitor that he had been called upon to serve; he had impregnated her that night. The child was turned over to the Culexus Temple upon his birth as he had inherited his father's Pariah gene. The irony wasn't lost on this aforementioned Inquisitor's retinue, as the individual in question was a zeta-level psyker and the fact that she had let him into her bed and _lived_ to tell the tale was quite confounding to them.

Marcella Snow was quite the opposite in comparison to the operative; she was empathetic, somewhat kind and had an aversion to killing. The girl also treated animals nicely; a point that he had noticed when she bought a bottle of milk and a disposable bowl to feed a litter of stray kittens that she had seen hours earlier. His daughter had found them adorable and took one of them as her own pet, calling a white kitten Chèvre. The aforementioned girl had picked a grey one with bright blue eyes and named him Cyrus, and she had intended to keep it as a companion.

It was not lost upon Dagon that Chèvre liked licking his face, much to the Vindicare's own irritation, and Snow had found it amusing that a small, cute animal would be attracted toward a cold, calculating killer like him.

When he saw the rest of the group come out of the building, he leapt down the fire escape of the building he was and met up with them.

"Is this the statue you described?," the girl had asked Judge Chatham when she held up a strange statue that Dagon had recognized as being a representation of Tzeentch. The aforementioned judge nodded.

"Time to head toward St. Antigone; we have to place that statue in its rightful place as I believe that this statue might activate a hidden door. Lachirus told me that Aballen Erkan kept his secrets concealed as unobtrusively as possible, something evidenced by the bookshelf that he had wired so that pulling a set of books out in a specific order caused the shelves to move out of the way. This revealed a safe with illict writings, and a recording servo skull. When we listened to the blasted device's transcripts, it turned out that Aballen had mentioned that each two months he had provided the Slaaneshi cabal with 30 orphans for liquidification to make combat drugs to distribute among the underhive, and that he was working on heretic sermons during the months before he was killed," Denton Briar had explained.

"I also believe that Aballen Erkan had accepted bribes from these people on these list; it seems fitting for the greasy bastard to do so in order to promote his own interests," Snow had threw her three cents in the conversation as she held up a list of twelve names.

"Agreed. The fact that he planned to disguise the bartering of demonic artifacts under a xenos trading ring speaks a lot to his conniving ways," Malarchos nodded toward the girl.

Dagon had silently agreed with the Marine's own assessment of Erkan's character. The fact that this corrupt fool was trying to undermine the Imperium couldn't be ignored and it was a good thing that he was offed before he could make any inroads.

* * *

Krelek the Magnificent stood before the altar to Slaanesh that he had built from the remnants of the priests that he and his followers had slaughtered in this particular cathedral. The images of the Corpse-god had been desecrated with the icongraphy of his new master, and behind him, various cultists rutted and writhed in pleasure.

The man was once called Father Theophilus, but that name was behind him. That man was a weakling; denying himself all worldly pleasures in his ever-ending pursuit of the Corpse-god's blessings. But when he had found the Lord of Ecstasies's writings the man found that his false god's writing paled in comparison to what the true god could provide.

So it came to pass that Krelek converted a small portion of his fellow priests to the pursuits of all the pleasures that life could provide; when the other priests noticed, they tried to stop his rise, but he and his band had killed them all.

A chained man was dragged up to the altar; he tried to flee, but the other cultists was able to drag him back to the table. Krelek pulled out his dagger; as his fellow cults held the unfortunate man down he plunged it in his chest. Twisting the knife to cause ever further pain, he then pulled out the sacrifice's heart with it.

"TO THE LORD OF ECSTASIES! THE PRINCE OF PLEASURE!," he bellowed out in worship before beginning to break out in song; this unholy hymnal his followers had begun to join in.

A sudden rumble reverberated from the entrance of the cathedral; the giant wooden door was shortly knocked down soon after.

A bunch of arco-flagellants burst into the room where the cultists were situated; in a whirlwind of electro-whips and plasma cutters they begun to slaughter the cabal. One cultist was halved by a clean slice through his waist, while a second one screamed like a baby as a electrowhip broke through his skull and electrocuted his brain to death.

Three followers were then gored by the same servitor when they charged at him with crude weapons; after the weapon had disemboweled them it collapsed from the massive overdose of the drugs in its body. The others had continued to carve a bloody rampage through Krelek's circle; he watched with amusement as the screaming cultists died horribly.

One of the killing machines broke away and charged Krelek; plunging a plasma cutter through his stomach, the corrupt demagogue found himself coughing up blood. He appreciated how cold his body was getting, how the blood loss had weakened his body. All in a moment of ecstatic pleasure, he embraced his demise.

He however was unaware of six figures watching the gory scene from afar with grim satisfaction.

* * *

Myrcella Tyrell stroked her sleeping daughter's head as she watched the entire group in the rhino carrier that was taking the entire group to St. Antigone District. Through the years of raising Marcella, the female arbitator had grown used to her progeny's unusually maddening presence; she had limited the access to herself and a trusted servant who was able to withstand the child's presence during the time she was young.

She could recall that when Marcella was a kid, she had wrote a story called Vaedrex and his Magic helm. The entire premise of the story had reminded her too much of the Culexus assassins themselves.

 _Flashback_

" _I wrote a story, Mom," a six-years-old Marcella spoke up, "Do you wanna hear it?"_

" _Yes," she nodded._

" _Once upon a time there was a kingdom called Hesviloch; It was a beautiful and happy one. But one day a sorcerer called Wralaxxi appeared in the castle; he killed the king and queen and banished the lords and ladies of the land from its domain," Marcella pointed to a golden castle she drew, and in front of it was a royal couple. She then guided her hand toward a sketch of the king and queen, both dead with a menacing figure hovering over it._

" _The nobles sought help from the giants in the neighbouring land; they agreed that Wralaxxi had to be defeated," She pointed toward a picture of giants, "But when they tried to siege the castle, they were all swiftly defeated."_

" _it seems all was lost, until a man called Vaedrex appeared one day. He said that he came from a secret order devoted to killing bad magic users like Wralaxxi. He had a magic helm, that he said absorbed the magic energies of the sorcerers and fired it back at the bad guys themselves," she nodded toward a man with a heroic-looking helm she had drawn herself._

" _Meanwhile Wralaxxi, the sorceror had summoned an army of demons to aid him in his conquest of the neighouring lands," Marcella then gestured to an illustration of horrible-looking spearmen. "But he didn't know that Vaedrex was heading to the castle to kill him."_

" _Vaedrex entered the castle through a secret passage that the nobles had told him about. But Wralaxxi sensed his presence, and what he felt scared him to the point that he fled it. He then tried to turn invisible to evade the hero," Next came a drawing of the helmeted man entering the castle through a secret door and a second one, of a robed figure panicking in terror._

" _But the man was determined to find the bad magician, and he used his magic helm's special ability to detect invisible people, and he found Wralaxxi. The guy fired several spells at Vaedrex in an attempt to kill him," a gesture to a picture of the same robed figure waving a staff with various magic effects at the helmeted hero._

" _But Wralaxxi's spells only made Vaedrex's magic helm stronger; He unleashed a mighty blast from it that killed the bad magician," The last picture, was the helmeted warrior blasting a big hole through the robed man. "After Wralaxxi was defeated the demon armies dissipated in thin air, and the banished nobles returned to Hesviloch to rebuild it. Vaedrex went on his way to another adventure."_

 _end Flashback_

Myrcella shuddered when she thought of these _horrible_ killers; the fact was that among both psykers and non-psykers alike, the Culexus were the most terrifying of the four main temples. Their aura gave off a pure malice that frightened allies and enemies, and the fact that they could consume souls of the unfortunate victims sickened the woman to no end.

She had been fortunate that Marcella didn't view such things as food; the girl had told her that she could taste the souls, but that she had felt that eating them was wrong. She had also told her that food tasted better than the aforementioned souls because they had texture and felt 'real'.

She could only pray that her daughter got to live a normal life; the fact that Marcella was raised to be as far away from the psychopathic killing machines most pariahs were.

* * *

 **That's it for now. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Location: St. Antigone district**

 **A note to all readers:*** sign language used for minor character.*

Joyful Lion Studios was a sad building, desperately in need of repair and some TLC; it was once a grand apartment complex built by the famous filmmaker James Hygthoran in M41.776 with the intention to house his actors and actresses there. But his father had other plans in his mind, and the _entire_ Hygthoran family moved into there with the intent that this place would be the royal apartments.

James had resented his father's grand vision of an independent Epsilon Regalis, and had gleefully betrayed his family to the Inquisition with the intent that he would become the new head of a much-subdued clan but his cousin had back-stabbed him with the intention to become the leader. This reign however was short-lived as the aforementioned cousin was assassinated by a death-cultist at the behest of James's middle son Vondar, and he then witnessed the forced conversion of most of the extended clan into arco-flagellants. Only his eldest sister's, two second cousins's and his lines would survive to the present day, as charlatans and joygirls in the underhive.

In M41.788 Vondar had sold the building in order to pay off the numerous debts that the Hygthorans had accumulated from their secession attempt, as well as his cousin-once-removed and father's questionable decisions to borrow from several loan sharks to keep living the same luxurious lifestyle that they had lived before Malcolm Robydis's assassination. This complex soon fell into the hands of the Brousseau family, who used it as one of their residences before they were wiped out in the New Years' Massacre of M41.883 because of their matriarch's correspondence with the Word Bearers with the intention that she would become a Daemon Prince of Chaos Undivided. The woman had intended this world to be her own domain, but her sinister plans had been swiftly ended by AMX-002's hellgun that night.

The Inquisitor who had requisitioned the assassin had gave it to his daughter, an eccentric woman who was feared because she had close ties with all three Ordos Majoris. When some of the nobility had teamed up against her in order to take back their estates, she just ratted the conspirators out with the intention that she would get her hands on some of their wealth. It succeeded as many of the people were killed, while the few who survived were sentenced to _Servitude Imperpituis_ by magistrates after a well-publicized trial intended at sending the decadent rich a message.

The great-grandson of the woman had sold the building to a hotelier with the intent to move in his own, modest quarters somewhere in Reddington District nearly seventy years ago. The Joyful Lion Studios were soon renamed the Waldorf Suites. The new owner, Deloris Shrike had put a fresh new coat of paint on the walls and replaced much of the old furniture. But while he was waiting for the new signage to arrive to replace the outdated neon signage that now hung limply from rusted wiring, he was murdered by Archibald Belkat, the grandfather of the late Erasmus Belkat, in a horrific case of mistaken identity. This had ended up sending the aforementioned man to the penal world of Clandenn II. The Joyful Lion Studios was abandoned soon afterwards, as many potential patrons refused to go anywhere near the disputed territory.

The group of ten gazed upon the building; it was once a bright flamingo pink, but the subsequent years had faded the stucco to a soft pastel pink. The art deco detailing on the exterior were chipped and many pieces of ornamentation had cracks in them, while others were obviously broken. The ornately wrought doors were hanging off their hinges while some of the stained glass panels on them were busted.

"How pathetic; the fact that this building is still standing when it should have been torn down years ago still astounds me," Marcella Snow snarled, her gaze falling upon the various gang tags scattered around the walls of the aforementioned building.

"By the Emperor, even I can't believe the neglect that goes on in this Golden Throne-forsaken district," Dagon Lachirus had added, as he had turned around in order to inspect the other buildings around the Joyful Lion Studios, all in a similar state of disrepair and abandonment.

"I recall that there was a serial killer prowling here nearly sixty years ago. Killed nearly 26 joygirls in the district; it was when a survivor came to us that we knew that we had a problem here. It turned out to be a munitions worker called Xenithos Fulgrim. He was sent to Clandenn II after his arrest," Chastener Taremann nodded toward Marcella.

"And there's the frakking gang tags; look here, guys. This red wheel-shaped one? It is a symbol of the Wheelboy Blades. They're a nasty bunch of jackasses this side of St. Antigone. The senior members of this gang usually have motorbikes. The gray laughing face is a symbol of the Graykillerz; they take glee in everything they do, even murder," Marcella had begun gesturing to the tags, explaining the emblems and the symbology behind each one, "The red demon face means that the Scarlet Devils have been in this district; they are usually situated in the underhive. They must be expanding their turf."

"Good observation, Snow," Denton Briar nodded, "Your knowledge of the criminal underworld is exemplary."

"I recall when I met Snow; she was eleven. We were trying to remove a particularly vile official who often extorted businesses. She cited a bunch of laws that was related to this kind of conduct; one was a law that stated that an official had no right to seize property from the owner unless there was a reasonable belief there may be heretic activity operating on the owner's premises.

Another law states that any official may not abuse his powers for personal purposes; this had been invoked many times with corrupt governors in recent history," Baltir Chatham gestured to Marcella, "Although her presence often made us ill we could see that she had talent."

"Very well, Chatham," the Inquisitor nodded, before he turned toward Myrcella Tyrell.

"I've been observing your daughter, Judge Tyrell. She has the needed traits for an assassin, and the fact that she have a specific gene sequence that is of value to the Imperium; it is called the Pariah gene. Do you know what it really does?," he asked.

"From what I can recall, it enables the person to emit an aura that virtually shut down any psychic activity in the vicinity of the subject, although it also leave the person without a connection to the warp," the woman had replied, "I once worked with one during my time with Thrawn Eisenhorn; his name was Jack Byblos; he was cheerful, but quite blunt."

The Inquisitor had instantly recognized the name; he had once worked with the aforementioned man on many difficult and complex cases involving daemonic cults that had infiltrated various planets in the Imperium, and Myrcella Tyrell had been part of his retinue. She had aided Briar in locating Dagon Lachirus on Kalto, and provided him with much assistance in raising Julores Ronnherig when she was an infant and toddler.

"Sorry if I was late, guys, but I had to clean up the Slaaneshi cult Snow found," A familiar voice chimed in; Ruhr Foules jaunted up to the group; following her was a raven-haired Sister of Battle, a voidborn psyker, her stormtrooper elder brother and a set of twin death-cultist assassins.

"The Adepta Sororitas is Callais Malarcias; she is a Hospitaller. She is deaf, so she usually use sign language to communicate. The psyker's name is Kallias Chell, and her brother is Bamanti. The twins are Severina and Tyrus Valaisecti. They are Moritat death-cult assassins," he gestured to each member of his retinue.

"We were discussing this place; Marcella Snow was telling us about the local gangs in the Scintilla hive," Cassius Malarchos nodded toward the aforementioned girl.

"And the fact that this area have been neglected for so long tells how frakking corrupt many of the hive officials are," Marcella spat out; she turned to the tags muttering under her breath inaudible cusswords that was difficult for the rest of the group to pick up, but instantly recognizable to the Adepta Astartes and the Vindicare.

"It seems your Culexus candidate is a potty-mouth, Briar," The assassin nodded toward his master.

Denton Briar could only face-palm in embarrassment at the observation. It wasn't lost upon him that her unprofessional language would have to be addressed during the training process.

* * *

The walls were covered in pastel pink and gold damask wallpaper, while the crystal light fixture on the ten-feet-high ceiling had seen better days. An overturned plant pot laid in one corner, while an alcove held a desecrated image of St. Celestine.

There were a set of French doors on the right side of the walls, while the other wall had a second alcove, this one shelved. On them were arrayed various knick-knacks, some of them normal and other outright strange.

One of them was a set of three statues of monkeys; one covering the eyes, another its ears and the last its mouth. This particular set reminded Chastener Taremann too much of the corrupt nobility, who often turned a blind eye to each other's misdeeds and often aided illegal trading rings.

He frowned as he scrutinized the aforementioned object; knocking one with his hand while holding it up to his ear, he noted that it was hollow. Shaking the object he heard a discernible jingle. Breaking the statue, he found a set of six keys.

"Look what I found," he showed the group the aforementioned object.

"Seems like these must open something," Ruhr Foules noted as he took the keyring.

"The most likely thing I think is a chest or a series of one; I once found a similar set, and it ended up opening an intricate lock on a giant chest during my time with Thrawn Eisenhorn," Tyrell replied.

"Or a door," Marcella Snow had added, "If Aballen Erkan had something he wanted to hide away from prying eyes with added layers of security, he would have went to a lockmaker and had something like that lock you mentioned made, Mother."

"Great insight, Snow. It kind of make sense the more I think about it; he must've had added an extra layer of security to whatever he was hiding away," Foules nodded in agreement.

The group moved toward the french doors on the other side; finding themselves inside a long arcade they begun looking around. The arches were painted gold, while the peeling walls were painted an ecru color. The centre of this corridor held a broken statue of James Hygthoran, while the stores on either side had been abandoned for a long time.

One store in particular held collectible bottles; Taremann had noted that some of the bottles went as high as 40,000 thrones worth of coins for one gilded variety, while the rest were 400 to 600 thrones each. He had to admit that the wares were tempting, as he was an avid miniature bottle collector but he had decided that now wasn't the time to acquire more items for his treasure hoard.

Another store had books inside; he could clearly see that Marcella Snow had wandered into it. She had found a book detailing complicated legal treatises, and was clearly absorbed in them; it had amazed him that Tyrell's daughter, although harboring a dangerous power, had a talent in analyzing and applying Imperial law.

The Adeptus Arbites had seized upon this talent and nurtured this gift to the best of their abilities despite the fact that Snow's presence often drove most ordinary people insane. To this effect, the girl had a constantly rotating cadre of tutors, including Baltir Chatham, her mother and him.

When he had asked how she was able to make rulings that were fair and sensible, Snow had replied, "Sometime it helps that I pull myself into a state where I feel absolutely nothing; from there I analyze the facts and evidence with a logical and clear mind."

He sighed as he emerged from the aforementioned bottle store; Denton Briar had dragged the aforementioned subject from the book shop, still clutching that particular book.

"I can't even wrap my mind around the complicated facets of Imperial law, Briar," Dagon Lachirus had noted after plucking the book from Snow's hands and reading the page she was currently on, "this book had a lot of legal vocabulary that I couldn't even comprehend myself."

"It was the exact reason why we agreed to take her on as a student. She had an innate understanding of Imperial law that many lacked, and you cannot dismiss the fact that Marcella Snow _memorized_ _ **ten entire volumes**_ _of Imperium lawbooks_ ," Chatham had nodded toward the Inquisitor.

"Can you please give me that book back now?" The aforementioned girl reached for the book, but Briar had closed the book in order to inspect the title.

" _A Collection of Observations Regarding Psykic Laws Vol. II,_ written by various authors and collated by one Proctor Valerianna Perdiaxias," he read it out aloud, "Good choice of reading material, Snow."

The irony of a soulless finding reading materials relating to the laws governing all psykers be it sanctioned or unsanctioned was not lost upon the rest of the group. Even Taremann had to bite back a snicker at the idea.

"Now can you _give_ back me that _ **FRAKKING**_ _**book**_ please?" a clearly pissed off Marcella Snow crossed her arms, tapping her left foot on the traventine-tiled floors of the arcade.

* * *

The courtyard of the Joyful Lion Studios was a pathetic sight; the five-tiered fountain, once the crowning pinnacle of the building, was filled with stale water that hadn't been displaced in decades. The four statues on the corners of the bottommost tier were of lions; they seemed relaxed, even joyful in their posture despite the years of neglect.

The benches surrounding the fountain were either bent out of shape or had their wooden parts taken for salvage or firewood. The planters next to them held several artificial trees; they seem to have lost most of their fake foliage. The walls of this courtyard was the same faded shade of pink as the exterior; it had various instances of graffiti, some gang-related and others looked quite tastefully done.

The aforementioned fountain was at the centre of the courtyard, with four red stone pathways spreading out of it like an X. They were obivously littered with various bits and pieces of trash, like flyers and lho butts. From the ceiling of this atrium hung several strips of fly paper, all filled to the very end with carcasses of dead insects.

The green faux turf of the room was completely torn in several places; some of the concrete underflooring could be seen. When Denton Briar had pried up a particularly loose slab he had found several caches of flects, obscura, and smack, a quite ancient drug that had just been recently rediscovered.

Flects were clearly Immaterium-tainted glass that had been exposed for decades or centuries to the fetid energies there; they was first discovered by the Inquisitor Gideon Ravenor in M41.402 on the Imperial-controlled planet of Eustis Major. During the time he spent there he had discovered the original source of these blasphemous fragments; it had came from the warp-tainted and largely desolate Vincies subsector.

However in M41.604, the corrupt rogue psyker Cyrus Aerchalus had discovered a way to create more flects by creating a crucible of Warp energies in his own chambers in the underhives of Ionis. He bought several panes of glass from nearby manfactorums, put them into this container to steep for five to fifteen years before pulling them out of the Immaterium energies to distribute to various dealers. During the years he had spent creating these fragments he had wrote extensive instructions on making more of his unholy crucible and sent them to willing students all over the Imperium.

The Gray Knights and the Inquisition had spent endless resources combating this menace, and it wasn't surprising to Briar that every time a copy of Aerchalus's instructions were destroyed, two more copies were being made. He had often ordered the assassination of known producers of the unholy fragments, and it was one thing that Dagon Lachirus was all too happy to oblige. As a parent the man was deeply concerned about the danger of these items, ever since a six-years-old Julores had brought him a piece while they were on a quest to eliminate the remnants of a Slaaneshi cult on the pleasure world of Vom-Hagia.

The child had told her father that she had gotten it off a boy who had brought it to the playground where she was playing alongside three other children. She had kept it wrapped because she felt something was weird about the glass fragment, and decided that she wouldn't look into it.

It was a wise decision, and something that Lachirus had praised his daughter for; after Bhullar Vijay had scanned it with his psychic powers he had determined that it was Chaos-corrupted. Briar was able to trace it back to a well-known drug dealer called Sicollam, who often brokered deals between the forces of the Ruinous powers and pirates, as well as corrupt noble families who were exiled because of their ambitions.

Lachirus had assassinated Sicollam during a bar brawl; the aforementioned scuffle had begun as an attempt to begin a riot among the working class, but the Adeptus Arbites on that world had swiftly put down the attempted revolt. He had shot the bastard in the head with a single shot from his Exitus pistol while in disguise as a glass-worker from the nearby factories; after the brawl had escalated, he had aided the arbitrators in controlling the chaos by shooting the instigators of the riots in the legs to hinder their escapes.

"I know one classmate who was addicted to flects, Briar. His name is Etero Namorr; one day he tried to bring one of these frakked shards to school, from what my teacher told me. The fool wound up in the work camps of Brahmaan XI. He became much more cruel after that event, and tried to set fire to my school's auditorium," Marcella Snow's remarks to Lachirus had snapped Briar out of his reminiscing.

"If I recall precisely, I once knew one boy at my Schola who ran away before his day of Choosing; the Officio Assassinorum had designs on him because he had shown an excellent aptitude for killing. He didn't want a life leashed to the Imperium's own war machine, so he snuck out one day and was never found. However fifteen years later it turned out that the subject had begun dealing in various contraband items in order to feed his flect addiction, and he was swiftly dispatched after it turned out he had been driven somewhat insane as a result of his constant looks at these unholy fragments," Dagon Lachirus had nodded toward Snow.

"I knew a girl at my schola who did a similar thing. She was somewhat naive and prone to odd behaviors. The girl ran away because she didn't want to be constrained by heavy expectations heaped upon the students, so she ran away two months later after she had been brought there. Years later I saw her amongst the joygirls in the underhive of Gehenna Prime; she was completely addicted to obscura, and no amount of detox could bring her back to her senses," Tyrell noted as she placed her hand on her soulless daughter's shoulder.

Briar had recalled that one of the potential agents that he had tried to place under the tutelage of the Officio Assassinorum was a voidborn boy of the Astral Knives; he had been born on the _Misericord_ to Enginist parents. But however he was orphaned at birth when his mother died of illness; his father had died in an accident two months earlier. The boy was abandoned at an orphanage in the ship. When he joined the Astral Knives at age six he had begun to show signs of psychosis, something that Briar had noted. He had took the boy away from the only home he had known, and this event the aforementioned subject had violently raged against.

However the boy had took the opportunity to escape Briar during an outing on the world of Malfi, eventually making his way to the underhive there. He was never found for years, and the inquisitor had doubts about the chances of recovery of this subject.

A loud _**SLAM!**_ reverberated through the courtyard; it turned out that Malarchos had tripped over a medium-sized crate in front of him. He had been heading toward the east side door to inspect a puzzling lock when he stumbled. This made everybody laugh at the poor Iron Fists sergeant again, as it was commonly known among Briar's retinue that the marine was notoriously clumsy when out of his element.

Snow had quickly ran over to this lock; gesturing to Ruhr to pass the set of keys Taremann had found, she quickly placed the keys in each of the six keyholes on it. It clicked as it unlocked; she then tugged off the chain it had been on. The chains was then pulled off the handles of the door by Malarchos, even as the giant had shown clear signs of embarrassment at his clumsy ways.

The doors was then pulled out of the way; The group found themselves in the foyer of the Joyful Lion Studios. The enormous room was decorated in the exact same manner as the entrance. In one corner a plant pot was clearly busted, while the dirty beige couch next to it had several springs sticking out of it.

The grand stair case behind the semi-circular security desk had several pieces of debris blocking it; from what Briar could tell, a pipe had obviously burst and damaged the ceiling and the floor above the foyer.

He saw several chaos cultists peeking out of the hallways; they quickly fired stubber guns back at the entire group. He took out his needler pistol, while the rest of the group had done so with their respective weapons.

Aiming at one cultist he fired; the man had tried to dodge, but the ammunition had firmly embedded itself in his thigh. A second cultist charged him; Briar pulled off a harsh, powerful kick that had left the deranged man reeling from the blow. He then grabbed the arm of another cultist who had attempted to punch him in his face, but he had twisted it upon the unfortunate victim's back, painfully.

After he had knocked out this particular cultist, he readied himself for another round of fighting.

* * *

Marcella Snow took out her tonfas; They were precursors to specially designed shock mauls that Chatham had commissioned to fit her tiny frame. Flipping behind one cultist she lashed out at the man's head; this had caused his head to whiplash in a violent manner that had left his neck a broken wreck. She then performed a series of roundhouse kicks that had knocked another three off their feet.

Darting between the group, she moved in a precise series of manoeuvres intended at confusing the enemy into attacking each other; switching her tonfas to the _tokushu-mochi_ position she struck out at the cultists, knocking them out.

Marcella then flipped over the cultists; switching back to the standard tonfa position, she struck one cultist in an eye to the point she crushed the eyeball, and then kicked a second man in the groin. He gave out a high-pitched groan that had made the rest of the males in the room wince in sympathy.

She then rolled under the legs of another deranged worshipper, before returning to her fighting pose, ready to endure another round of fighting.

* * *

Dagon Lachirus took out his Exitus pistol; firing it with pinpoint accuracy, he had took out half of the cultists before some of them had charged him. He broke one cultist's spine with a powerful kick, before snapping a second follower's neck with his hands. He then punched another man with such sheer force to the point that it broke his neck. Vaulting over the remains of a cultist, he grabbed a man from behind; grabbing his head he broke this person's neck by rotating it so hard that the spinal cord ripped completely in its bone casing. Picking up his pistol he shot another five of the heretics while he somersaulted through the chaos.

He then kicked one of the followers in the spine to the point he broke the man's back, before he shot him in the back of his head. When a cultist had snuck up on him with the intent to garotte him, Dagon had pulled the man over his head, and thrown him against a nearby wall, breaking it before he had shot the man in the chest.

Turning his attention to the rest of the cultists Dagon begun picking them off with his pistol again.

* * *

Myrcella Tyrell and Taremann had took out out their shock mauls; the man had also brought his suppressor shield just in case he had to do some combat. They stood back-to back, as the cultists charged the two arbitrators they swiftly struck out with them.

Taremann swatted another worshipper away from him with his suppressor shield; he then struck the man in the head, hard, shattering his skull. He then charged a pair of heretics while holding it. This had the desired effect of knocking the pair off their feet. Swinging his maul in a wide arc, he broke their jaws.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Marcella Snow breaking a man's nose with a tonfa, while Cassius Malarchos crushed another one's windpipe with his hand. Briar was busy interrogating a cultist he had just subdued.

"Who do you serve?," he had intoned coldly.

"N-n-no one," the cultist had replied; the man had just twisted his hand to the point it was painful.

"I can smell your fear. C'mon, just give me a straight answer," he snarled; crushing his quarry's finger made the man cry out in agony.

"Please s-s-stop," he begged for mercy, but Briar just put his knife perilously close to his family jewels; sensing this, the man panicked.

"I served Aballen Erkan, but he's dead now! That frakking death-cultist assassin frakked up our plans!" he confessed, his bowels emptying in his sheer fear.

Briar had just knocked the cultist out; he turned his attention toward the rest of the Chao-oriented fools, firing his needler pistol at the group.

Myrcella Tyrell had just tackled a female cultist; twisting her arms behind her, she then snapped the woman's back with her own feet. She then kicked a second one in the face, shattering that woman's face with her plasteel-toed boots. She then crushed a male worshipper's head with her shock maul; he nearly cried out in pain before he dropped to the ground, half-dead.

She kicked the last remaining cultist in the groin, a technique that she had passed down to her daughter during the training sessions at home. The man gave out a high-pitched squeal that had made even Cassius Malarchos wince along in sympathy before he dropped to the ground.

"Is this what was left of Erkan's coven?" Taremann had asked, gesticulating to the bodies.

"Most likely," Ruhr had nodded as he pinned down a cultist; Landros and Bamanti had already killed the cultists next to him.

"We will likely need to interrogate some of these guys for info on Colby Rhasc's whereabouts; even since he has betrayed the Inquisition the security in the Cadian gate sector has been compromised," Briar had nodded.

"From what I've heard of him, he once had a love affair with some socialite that resulted in the birth of a baby girl," Marcella Snow stuck out her arms, "When the woman abandoned her daughter after the downfall of her family he must've given her up. The Inquisition don't let their members stray from their duties, and there is absolutely _no parental leave._ The last time an Inquisitor had one, there were rumors that she gave her infant up to the Officio Assassinorum's own care."

"If I recall correctly about that affair, it was with one Milly Trellan. The woman seized control from her weak-willed brother after he fell into league with the Ruinous powers. She chose to follow Colby Rhasc; she committed suicide after her child's birth because her family had been exiled from the upper hive," Ruhr Foules noted, his arms crossed across his chest.

"Time to move on, we need to find out what is behind that blasted niche," Baltir Chatham had reminded the group; there were unanimous nods of agreement.

* * *

Room 403 was once intended to be the legendary film actress Ellina Hartmann's quarters; she had spent nine millions worth of gelt on this particular apartment lavishing it with many luxurious details, like a large two-person whirlpool in the master bathroom, naturally grown mahogany wood cabinets from the rainforests of Gororan III, with matching furniture suites, and a king-size bed in the master bedroom.

The chandeliers on the ceiling had been sourced from the famous Lacrinis Glassworks on Arebrus Major; The artisans there were noted for making glass chandeliers of such delicacy that they were in demand among the nobility for their respective estates. The Snows had inherited one from their great- grandma, Lacressina Vándrueil; she had purchased it when she travelled there with her family before her engagement to Brett Caldwell.

However when she discovered that the Caldwells were importing daemonic artifacts to Epsilon Regalis in M41.882, she ran away from her home in the upper hive of Scintilla and made her way to the underhive, where she met Tychos Lotnik, a factory-worker. They dated for two years before he proposed to her, and they had a secret ceremony attended by their closest friends.

When the Caldwells were wiped out two new families rose to power; the Vecchios and the Hartmanns. Ellina Hartmann was the youngest daughter of that particular family, and with her newfound fame, she took her family name along with her during the year following the New Year's Massacre.

When the Hygthorans decided to move into the Joyful Lion Studios, this apartment had became the eldest daughter's own. She was preparing for her future wedding to Barrett Caldwell when her father was assassinated by the Imperium during his coronation; the following week, the obsessed nutjob Christopher L'Vemnar had abducted her with Barrett Caldwell's help, and she was missing for half a year before she turned up in a joygirl parlour. The young woman had been branded, her tongue severed and she seemed quite afraid of men.

Many rumours had circulated around this particular series of events; some said L'Vemnar had sold her to the brothel's master, others said that he raped her before he sold her and yet other versions had mentioned the possibility of a Slaaneshi cult laying their filthy hands on her body before they sold her to the brothel.

No matter what these tales implied, they all agreed on one thing; the young woman was a broken, sobbing wreck after her ordeal, and she never regained her sanity.

Marcella Snow had regaled the entire group with this particular tale on the way here; To Briar's amazement, he had never heard such a lurid tale. In many place, some of the stories he had heard were shocking, but this particular tale had took the pie in his opinion.

It wasn't until Bamanti Chell had chimed in with his equally grisly tale; It had involved the murder of the Escher heiress on his homeworld of Cadia nearly two hundred and eight years years ago.

The basic gist of the story was that the girl was murdered by her ax-crazy brother; he had begun to show psychotic delusions that he was the Emperor's servant. The girl was chopped to bits in her own parlour during the preparations for her debut. When the servants discovered the remains hours later, they were horrified and with good reason. The tale quickly spread through Cadia, from the Imperial guardsmen up to the high ranking commissars; they were equally revolted and fascinated by this gruesome story.

Meanwhile the Escher boy mysteriously disappeared, without any word from him. Many were mystified by his sudden vanishing; some said that he was taken by the Imperium for their own sinister purposes, and others said that he is currently wandering through the galaxy slaughtering anyone he deems unworthy of the Emperor's graces.

The rest of the group had wondered if there were any possibility that there were tales that could top these two.

* * *

The mahogany cupboards of the kitchen was quite busted; it was clear to Marcella Snow that it hadn't been repaired in a long time, while the countertops were covered in a thick layer of dust. She turned to the stove, which had a pot filled with gunk that she suspected used to be soup. The island the stove was on had a heavy beam on it that had caused the structure to break apart in half.

The peach-coloured floral wallpaper on the wall had several peeling sections, and the window in the kitchen was obviously broken. Under it was a large brick; tied to it was a note.

" _To Aballen Erkan... You_ _ **frakking**_ _bastard, always having_ _ **delusions of your competency**_ _. I'm going to_ _ **rat**_ _you and_ _ **your little psyker brats**_ _to the_ _ **Inquisition**_ _._ _ **Your worship**_ _of the_ _ **Changer of Ways**_ _is_ _ **endangering my family**_ _... and_ _ **EPSILON REGALIS**_ _, too! Love C.S. Lewwis, Adeptus Administrium employee of Holibanus Hive_ ," she read it out aloud.

"So it seem that somebody had it out for our corrupt fraktard as well," Chatham's eyes had widened as the girl handed the note to Ruhr Foules.

"I wonder who C.S. Lewwis is," Marcella had pointed to the signature at the bottom, before she begun tugging her front strand.

"If I recall correctly he is a descendant of Ellina Hartmann. She married a Commissar Lewwis in M41.891 at her father's behest and they had six sons and 21 grandchildren. However in M41.946 the sixth-born granddaughter Medelina begun to develop massive psychotic delusions at age five; she wound up killing her parents and three of her siblings. When the master Inquisitor Venmar Ruh of the Ordos Sicarius heard of this event during the time he was here he promptly took custody of the child, at the Arbites's request," Denton Briar had crossed his arms as he had reminisced on this particular tale.

*What happened to the girl, Briar?* Callais Malarcias's question, caught the assassin-inquisitor off guard, and the rest, except for Dagon Lachirus & Julores Ronnherig were looking at him with questioning eyes.

He sighed; the fact that they wanted to know more about one of the Officio Assassinorum's most guarded secret grated on his nerves and with good reason.

"I think I've figured it out, Briar. She must've been turned into one of these drug-crazed killers. If I recall correctly there is a legend about one of these monstrosities slaughtering everybody at a New Year's party in M41.883," Marcella pointed out.

Briar's eyes widened in shock; how had the girl figured out that Medelina had been selected to be an Eversor assassin? This had cast Marcella's potential in a whole new light. The Culexus Temple would be excited over this new find, as she had met a great deal of criteria for training.

But the only stumbling block was her legalistic mindset; Marcella had been taught that when dealing with potential threats be it from the underhive or above, the law must come first. That meant doing all she could through legal channels, and if these fails, hand it off to the Inquisition whenever possible. But during his observations she had shown some ruthlessness, from the various stories that Chatham and Taremann had told her during their ascent to the fourth floor of the Joyful Lions Studios.

One particular anecdote Taremann had told her involved her using her null-aura as an instrument of torture in order to break the notorious gangster S'Tylen L'Vemnar in order to acquire more information on a drug smuggling scheme that had imported thousands of vials of combat drugs to Epsilon Regalis when she was twelve. It turned out that the bastard had collaborated with several corsair factions in the Rimward Grange sub-sector to have thousands of captive piligrims liquidifed in order to make the Emperor-damned concoctions. He then had them smuggled under darkness in unmarked shuttle to the underhive. It was only through the intervention of Chatham, Tyrell and many other Arbites that this smuggling ring was broken and the conspirators sent to Clandenn II.

S'Tylen L'Vemnar had wound up as a mindless servitor serving Epsilon Regalis's Arbites after details of his other crimes had been uncovered; one of these had involved the murder of a Magos on Arebus Majoris in a last-ditch attempt to steal a newly-discovered STC that had been smuggled to the planet from Federation territory by criminals. It was an utter failure as the man couldn't get past security without provoking a hostile response from the Skiitari there.

Another story, this one told by Chatham, had Marcella using her wits to stop a bunch of mutants bent on taking their anger out on the Arbites after a cull had utterly eviscerated their gang. She had eavesdropped on their conservation while hanging upside from a fire escape; using the temporary vox-caster on her head as a recording device, she was able to collect the date and time of this planned uprising. This had enabled the Arbites to strike this group down before they could act out their plans.

Even as Briar was evaluating his new subject, he decided that he would take her in for further training.

* * *

 **The credit for the Federation goes to Banterhorse and his fanfiction Dark Age of War.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _ **Two days later**_

 _ **St. Bekendictos District, the Snow Estate**_

Marcella Snow sat at her desk in her bedroom; on her desk was the book of psykic law that she had found, as well as several volumes of hardboiled detective novels. She had always enjoyed a good mystery novel; something she had shared with her mother.

At this moment she was absorbed in another one of these; her teacher had given her an assignment to write a review of a book she was reading. This particular volume was about a team of Arbites who must investigate a series of mysterious disappearances of high-ranking officials of the planet they are stationed on. However one of the main characters was concealing a dangerous secret; he once was a governmental assassin, but the man defected from his organization because of the rampant corruption in his agency.

This novel was written by one Lonny Garced, a renowned author in the Gehenna sector who had sold million of copies of his books. Marcella had six books written by him in her collection and she was in the process of acquiring another 4. She just couldn't get enough of the twists and turns that he had put in his books, as well as the action.

A knock sounded on the door of her bedroom; she stood up and opened the door. Seeing her mother, she signaled the woman to come in.

"Mother, the fact that Aballen Erkan was declared _Excommunicate Traitoris_ after we found his cache of heretic books reminds me too much of these traitorous families from the New Year's Massacre," she said.

"I agree. Chaos isn't a toy; the Inquisition have lost count of how many time someone tried to mess around with the warp and got burned. Inquisitor Eisenhorn once told me that no matter how much someone think they can use demons to fight demons, they are mistaken; the demon usually turns on them the moment they show signs of weakness," Mother agreed.

"And the fact that he tried to establish a coven of sorcerers here shows how little the frakker cares for the safety of the planet. From what I've heard from Taremann, Foules is interrogating the worshippers," Marcella tugged her front strand, "When we found the collection, it became all too clear to me that he was a greasy Tze-worshipping frakker. I absolutely hate corrupt officials, and that is because they will do anything to get ahead in the hierarchy."

The two had recalled when Judge Chatham had placed the blasted statue in the niche, it had slid out of the way to reveal a bookshelf filled with books and scrolls devoted to the Architect of Fate.

One of them, _The Many Eyed God_ by one Fahjoud Al-Rashid was a notorious book that had been written in the early thirty-seventh millennium by the author before he was assassinated by a Culexus operative. The gifted apostate had led his pursuer across three systems and seven planets before finally meeting his demise on the _Unspoken Torments,_ a Horus Heresy-era battlecruiser that now served the traitorous Emperor's Children legion, from what the group had heard from Briar.

This assassin had snuck on a shuttle that was bringing another load of Chaos cultists from the daemon worldof Fulikkos II. He killed the cultists on that particular vessel, piloted it toward the ship and through his own cunning and stealth, he killed much of the high-ranked Astartes while they slept in terrified stupor. After the man had left a trail of bodies to lure out Al-Rashid, he had strangled the rogue psyker to death while using his potent life-draining abilities to heal his own wounds from his previous struggles.

Another book, _Selos's Musings on the Architect of Fate_ , was written by Tarsimee Selos, a well-known heretic poet from the world of Gororan III. It was published in M41.986; when the book had reached nearly 600,000 copies sold, it was when the Inquisition took notice. They had sent an entire legion of stormtroopers to destroy the publishing press that was producing several heretic books, including this volume. Selos fled her homeworld days later, the Inquisition on her trail. She had moved from system to system for six years, before arriving on Malfi. The woman had just ingrained herself in the Masque when the notorious Eversor assassin CIXIV had completely slaughtered her cadre. It was said that the killer had laughed, taking joy in the bloodletting as he had ripped Selos's heart out of her chest and used it to paint the words BEWARE, HERETICS in her blood on the walls of the eating establishment where this particular group was meeting.

"Denton Briar is interested in your potential, Marcella," the teenage pariah was broken out of her thoughts by her mother's words.

"I know! I told him that there are much worthier candidates than me. Dewark Cossach would make an excellent assassin. He's a serial killer in the making, and would enjoy watching the light go out in his victims's eyes. If I become one of these killers, I would regret every killing and remember the face of every life I take," Marcella answered, curling up in a fetal position.

"But you have begun to show a certain amount of ruthlessness in your work. Remember that mutant bunch you gave a ferocious beatdown to the previous week? They are on their way to the work camps on Braahman XI," Mother wrapped her arm around her, "the fact that you have begun to become numb to the suffering of other people just proves in my eyes that you're awakening to the harsh reality that is the Imperium."

"I'd rather follow in your footsteps than become one of these killers," she protested.

* * *

 _ **Inquisitoral Facility**_

Dewark Cossach sat in the gray observational chamber; he looked around; in one corner was a table displaying a variety of weapons. Another one held a caged puppy, clearly plucked up from the streets of his hive.

The window on one side of this particular was shatterproof; behind it he could see a tall man with slicked back hair and ruddy skin, as well as two tech-priests and a Medicae Adeptus.

When the cage had been opened by an automatic mechanism, the puppy had bounded out of it; approaching the boy, the creature sniffed him.

Dewark had picked up the dog by the scruff; grabbing one of the animal's hind legs, he had pulled at it so hard, the hip had dislocated. He then repeatedly kicked the dog against the wall, all while ignoring the poor creature's yowls of pain.

Taking a knife from the table the boy then dragged the dog toward him. He begun the process of beheading the puppy, all while these people had watched him dispassionately.

Little did this boy knew that the rest of his waking life would be spent in a bloody drug-fuelled berserk rage, eviscerating various enemies of the Imperium on various worlds.

Denton Briar had watched the boy vivisect the puppy in the room; he had read the extensive psychological report that the Medicae had wrote up on Cossach.

 _Psychopathic and sadistic tendencies is noted. Borderline psychosis is also present, although it is becoming stronger._

 _Childhood abuse noted; welts on back and stomach as well as cigarette burns on legs. Father is a known domestic abuser; mother is currently alive._

 _Admission into the Eversor Temple is recommended._

"Next," he nodded toward the tech-priests as they moved to sedate the boy.

The next subject was Natalie de Ossman; she had been abused physically and sexually since she was eight by her stepfather. This had resulted in a cold, sociopathic personality. The girl, although pretty, had absolutely no friends and often spent her time seducing men and killing them.

She had proved to be a perfect match for the Callidus Temple, as evidenced by the hidden vid-cam of her seducing a competitor from the fighting rings in the underhive and then killing him during sexual intercourse.

When he had watched the girl dispassionately slit the throat of the cat that she had been given with the kama sickle she carried around, Denton Briar had decided to take her aboard the Officio Assassinorum ship.

After watching another 32 subjects, some disappointing, and yet others was lost in mediocrity he saw Benjya. He had coldly ignored the kitten, even going as far to keep his hands to himself. When he had been given a knife he had quickly beheaded the animal. This had earned a nod of approval from Briar.

Another child, a young boy of around age seven had tortured the miniature grox he had been given by painfully vivisecting the creature while it cried out in pain. This Briar had noted and he was quickly turned over to the Medicae for a more through psychological assessment.

He could see Lachirus doing maintenance work on his Exitus pistol while Julores happily chattered to him about a mystery book that Snow had recommended to her. The man was grudgingly listening; it was clear to Briar that he had little to no idea of what a normal life in the Imperium really was like.

Julores's upbringing was also unusually abnormal; having an assassin for a parent had meant that she was virtually rootless. She had much more in common with the voidborn that populated the various ships of the Imperium, as she only went planet-side when her father had a vital mission, or to aid Briar in his investigation in various heretic and illicit activities across the Emperor's domain.

She had also learnt some of his own techniques, although the fact that she wasn't an orphan impeded her entrance into the Schola Progenium. But nevertheless, the girl was diligent in her studies under her father.

Several of the assassins under the Inquisitor's care were voidborn; One was N'Ijiashi Thaddea, a Callidus who was born on the Astra Militarium ship _Fists of Absolution._ During the 18-years- long conflict on the now dead world of Hallourn XV, her parents had been killed. The girl had been sent to the Schola Progenium on a nearby world as a result. She was brought to the Officio Assassinorum's attention after she had killed a drill abbot that had tried to molest her and she had completed the training at her alma mater before being set loose on the Chartist vessel HMMS _Everlasting Honour_ ; her objective was to kill the heretic captain of this ship. She had used polymorphine in order to assume the identity of his lover before she had seamlessly dispatched the traitor during a sexual tryst.

The second was Chrystall Zhau; She was the youngest niece of the now deceased Viktor Zhau. During a mission on Necromunda Zhau's biological relatives had tracked him down and entrusted him with the care of the infant girl. It turns out that his younger sister, who had disappeared from the Schola on the world of their birth had been kidnapped by pirates while she was exploring the area around the educational instuition.

The girl was then sold to a ship-bound brothel where she endured years of rapes by various customers on it. During her years there she gave birth to five children, two of them boys, who were then turned over to the Astral Knives once they turned five years old. The two elder girls had begun the "training" to become joygirls, but once she had became pregnant with her youngest daughter, the woman had escaped her captors. The woman had hidden herself among the crowds on her ship, giving birth to this baby during the journey to Necromunda.

Once she had arrived on the world, she had made her way toward four cousins living together in an apartment in the middle hive; before her death she begged to have the girl placed in the care of her brother. Coincidentally, Viktor Zhau had been assigned the task of killing the heretic cardinal Mosiel Vaschomes on this world; he had begun spreading dangerous heresies to the populace of his district with the intent to foster dissent.

He had just begun his climb up the building overlooking the Ecclesiarchy cloister where his objective had been stationed in when he was located. The cousins handed the squalling baby over to him, much to Viktor Zhau's chagrin. He left baby Chrystall at a Officio Assassinorum waypoint station and returned to his objective.

Chrystall had begun her training in the Vindicare Temple when she was five; her first mission after her graduation was to eliminate the Mekboy warboss Ritgrog Skarkraka. It was an unabashed success as the ork was killed by a precise head-shot.

"What do you think of Marcella Snow?" Julores's question had broke Briar out of his musings.

"The girl is an excellent candidate; The only problem she have is her legalistic mindset. She believes in doing things within the confines of Imperium law, and is willing to hand it off to us when it fails to address the threat," he replied, "This mindset will have to be challenged during her training."

"I agree, She is an intelligent young woman. There is a reason why the Officio Assassinorum doesn't tolerate mediocrity; they drag down the rest with them," Lachirus had noted.

"I fully agree, many of the candidates that we had hoped would be standouts disappointed us greatly," Briar had sighed.

He had the feeling it would be a long day of scrutinizing various Schola Progenium orphans and street urchins.

* * *

 _ **Main Precinct-Fortress of Epsilon Regalis**_

Marcella stood in a fighting ring; her current instructor, Baltir Chatham was facing her. She raised her tonfas to strike at her mentor, but he blocked it with his suppressor shield. The girl the lashed out with a low kick which temporarily staggered her mentor before she followed with a series of precise tonfa strikes at his upper chest.

He responded by blocking the aforementioned strikes with his shield, before swinging his shock maul in a wide arc. She ducked, before flipping over Chatham; another series of strikes aimed at his back soon followed before he turned around and blocked them.

As he struck out at her, Marcella blocked his shock maul with her tonfa, before she pulled off a high kick that her mentor was able to block, only marginally. Using the levarage of the earlier kick she flipped before she made another low kick; this one had managed to knock Chatham off his feet.

"Good job. You're definitely improving in combat. Your mother must taught you well this week," he nodded toward the teen.

Marcella perked up at the praise; today was a good day. Most of her days were often spent alone as many of her schoolmates feared her because her presence was unusually disorientating to them. Some of the bullies, including Dewark Cossach, had tried to pick on her but after she had given them a fierce beatdown, it was clear to the school that it was better to leave her alone.

But it didn't deter some from trying. It was a good thing that her mother had trained her constantly in combat even since she was six. This had bolstered her self-confidence, and helped her prepare for her future career choice as an Adepta Arbites.

"It's definitely a good thing that Aballen Erkan and his progeny is dead, Chatham. I've seen the books in his stash. Some of them were heretical, but nothing compared to that one demonic tome," Marcella reminisced on the previous night's events.

"It was a good thing that Ruhr Foules had the idea to hand it over to the Ordos Malleus' own care," her mentor had agreed.

This particular book, called _The Great Tome of Neme_ _'_ _duk_ was a book that had a Greater Lord of Change sealed in it. It had been created by the same apostate psyker that had authored the _Many-eyed God._ He had intended on using the book as a weapon to unleash massive demonic incursions on many Imperial worlds, but his assassination had ended his malevolent plans. It then passed to the Thousand Sons' own archives before the sorcerer Atum Sum had presented Colby Rhasc with it during the 13th Black Crusade. The traitorous Inquisitor had it smuggled beyond Epsilon Regalis's security with the intention that Erkan would summon Neme'duk there, from what Bhullar Vijay had divined from the Emperor's Tarot Cards.

The two Inquisitors agreed that this book had to be locked up, and they had placed it into a stasis box specially designed to hold demonic artifacts like it. Marcella had suspected that this book would be sent to some Inquisitorial bastion somewhere in the galaxy, where it would go under further scrutiny.

"Taremann told me that he plans to send me to the Chastener training facility on Scintilla. He told me that my unusual presence is a somewhat effective tool of torture, and he want to refine that gift further there. While there he told me that I may learn many non-lethal ways to capture dissidents there," She crossed her arms in contemplation, "I agree with him, I want to go there for further training. There are many seditious elements on Epsilion Regalis who would stop at nothing to see it free."

"Agreed. From what I recall from this world's history there was two secession attempts. The first attempt involved the frakked Hygthoran family. Their patriarch turned traitor and was slain during his coronation. The second attempt ended in the purging of much of the nobility," Chatham sighed, sitting down on a nearby bench.

"And the countless planetary governors that had attempted to secede from the Imperium paid the price with their lives," Foules's voice had intruded into the two individuals's conversation, "The fact that they would willingly play Vahallan roulette with the lives of innocent civilians shows how much disregard they have for the people under their rule."

"I've heard rumors that Severus XIII was killed by someone posing as his bride six years ago," Marcella turned to Foules, "It seems the Severan Dominate folded after his death. Some of the conversations I've recorded mentioned that his troops and former supporters hated him so much, they _let him die_."

"Agreed. The man had became paranoid and tyrannical in his last years; he once tried to harness the power of an Alpha-plus psyker to serve as his personal attack dog, but the Ordos Malleus dispatched an agent to kill this person," Ruhr nodded.

"My mother told me this morning that Briar is seriously interested in me. I don't understand why he would want me; I already told him that there are other, worthier candidates for his hounds," the teen crossed her arms.

"It is because your presence is a weapon that can be harnessed against rogue psykers and Warp entities, Marcella Snow. The chances of this gene appearing is one in a billion; many of your kind often don't survive past infancy or even childhood. The fact that your mother raised you well despite the fact that you radiate this chilling presence is a testament to her strength of character," Foules replied, "I understand that you want to become an arbitrator, but if Briar has his way he will conscript you for training at the Culexus Temple."

"But I already finalized plans to go to the Chastener training facility on Scintilla with Taremann this morning," She protested, "He told me that my aura is quite effective at squeezing out the necessary information from some of the most difficult to break individuals in his tender care."

"He won't relent on that one, Snow. Even if you have evidence proving that fact, he'll dismiss it and _take you in_ anyways. You are far more _valuable_ to him as a _weapon_ ," Ruhr sighed, his annoyance with Marcella clear on his face.

"I'd rather continue my studies with Chatham then go with that _motherfrakking yutz_ ," the teenage pariah snapped back, her arms crossed across her pubescent chest.

"Trying to convince him is like reasoning with a brick wall," Foules responded.

* * *

Briar sighed as he looked over the one-hundred and sixty-nine candidates he had procured for the Officio Assassinorum; the youngest was only three years old, while the eldest was a 21-years-old serial killer he had wrung out of the underhive of Holibanus after hearing legends of a serial killer hunting people there. The one-hundred and seventieth candidate, Marcella Snow was on her way here, being delivered to the facility they were in by Ruhr Foules, over her adamant objections that she was going with Taremann to the world of Scintilla in the Calixis Sector.

He was beyond irritated with the sub-par offerings that the Schola Progenium on Epsilon Regalis had provided him; many of the children were bed-wetters or just plain cowards. To send a strong message to the rest of the drill abbots there he had two-thirds of them executed after finding that the quality of their education was significantly below the demanding standards of the various organizations that depended on them for their new recruits.

"YOU FRAKKING FRAKTARD, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS FRAKKING SHIT TO ME?! I TOLD YOU I HAD FINALIZED PLANS TO GO TO MOTHERFRAKKING SCINTILLA! YOU SHOULD GO STICK YOUR DUMB HEAD UP SOME HERETIC SCUM'S ASSHOLE!" The aforementioned subject was swearing Foules' ear off, and he was not clearly pleased with what the girl was saying.

 _ **SLAP!**_

Snow burst in tears; the right cheek of her face was clearly red, a result of Foules striking her in the face. She tried to head toward one of the doors of the large room, but Briar tackled her, and dragged her back toward the throng of candidates.

"As much as you hate it, we want you, Snow. Your rare trait make you a valuable asset to the Imperium, and we are authorized to take any measures to take in people like you," he scolded the teenage pariah harshly.

"Frak you," Snow snapped back, flipping the double birds at Briar. This was something he was not particularly pleased with. He had to restrain himself from slapping Snow for her act of defiance.

* * *

 _ **On the Unwavering Resolver**_

Dagon Lachirus stood in Briar's office; the Vindicare was waiting for his next assigment. He was leaning against the wall when the aforementioned inquisitor came in. His face had been scribbled over with permanent markers; there was a monocle around his left eyes, a drawing of a third eye on his forehead, a moustache and goatee around his lips and the word "LOSER" on his right cheek.

The assassin bit back a snicker as he appreciated the handiwork, and Briar was baffled why his servant was laughing at him.

"Look in the mirror," he pointed out; the man promptly headed for the mirror in the adjoining bathroom.

To say that Denton Briar was embarrassed was an understatement; he was furious that someone would willingly do this act of disrespect to him. But taking in deep breaths, he realized the most likely person was Marcella Snow.

The girl was an infuriating spitfire, always mouthing off at every opportunity. When the Medicae had ordered her to strip down to nudity, she had snarked, "So I'm a joygirl? How erudite."

The fact that she was being medically examined for any physical anomalies that may impede her development as an assassin was clearly lost upon the girl. It wasn't until one of the servitors had forcibly cut through the school uniform she wore that Snow realized what they intended to do to her.

Once the examination was complete, she was given a sombre gray jumpsuit with the number #170 on the right chest pocket.

Briar was still waiting for the results of the examinations of his latest batch of assassin candidates. After he scrubbed off the ink with soap and water (twice) he returned to the office, examining the papers.

"We're still waiting for confirmation on the kill-order for Evangelion's traitorous governor, Dagon. The fact that he has a large contingent of guardsmen fanatically loyal to him, and fortified his palace with defenses in anticipation of Imperial retribution speaks a lot to his character," the man noted, "Secondly, I've heard rumors that the new governor of Borthaman XII is an unsanctioned psyker; The Ordo Hereticus is investigating him, as I speak."

"Snow told me that she'd overheard rumours that there are some factions of the Administrium who have begun to bribe various organizations to overlook their ineptitude. She told me that she believed that Aballen Erkan was a member of one such group," Dagon replied.

"If these rumors were confirmed, it would end up doing a large amount of damage to the Imperium's overall functioning. I shudder to think what would happen if the confirmation of that kill-order was lost by these incompetent officials," Briar frowned in distaste, "I may need to do a further investigation of the political corruption in the Adeptus Administrium."

Dagon sighed; his thoughts had began to wander toward his daughter. When he took the newborn girl in, he had accepted the consequences of his oversight and strove to atone for this mistake by raising her. The fact that he understood that he would likely face painful reconditioning for his reckless acts had drove him to do this in order to protect his own secrecy, as well as his daughter's own existence. It wasn't lost upon Thrawn Eisenhorn and Denton Briar that he had accepted the responsibility of raising Julores after her mother's death as a way to make things right after his little escapade with the woman.

The many years that he had spent raising her had taught him that even if he could atone for his mistake, it would stay with him for a long time; it was a stain on his otherwise spotless record. But the fact that Julores was a well-adjusted individual spoke a lot of his devotion to his child.

He still missed Edith Ronneherig, the mother of his child and his first and only lover he had ever had. Both had found that they both had a lot in common, being born on Malfi, and went to the same Schola when they were younger. They had both hated the headmaster of this particular facility, as it was a commonly known fact among the student body that the man had sold a few children to Dark Eldar pirates every year.

However, during Dagon's third year there the man had fallen under the scrutiny of Ordos Xenos investigators and was taken away. He was replaced by a reasonable drill abbot who was in opposition to the man's own greedy policies, and it was something that Dagon was particularly thankful for, because he knew that he didn't want to be taken to Comorragh for endless years of torture.

He had heard the stories, many who survived these raids were reduced to babbling husks of their original selves. Even his fellow assassins weren't safe; some of them were so broken by the years of prolonged torture they weren't even fit to serve. They were promptly given the Emperor's mercy. It was little wonder that Dagon hated and feared the damned xenos.

Sighing again, he watched Briar endlessly pace the room, muttering profanities about corrupt officials and stupid idiots, something that he had seen Snow, Chatham and Taremann doing earlier.

* * *

Marcella Snow sighed for the umpteenth time as she stood along the other children who had been taken from Epsilon Regalis. She had noticed that some of the children didn't even have parents to teach them the proper way to behave in front of others. One boy had just urinated on his neighbour; that particular boy had ended up punching the idiot. This had ended up initiating a fistfight between the two children, which a third and forth had quickly joined in. She marched up to the four children; pulling them apart, she bonked them all in the head.

"If you want to stay alive during this frakking time, just. Don't. DO. STUPID. SHIT. Like. That," she spat at the four boys.

Meanwhile Briar, Lachirus and Foules had entered the room. Using a megaphone to attract the attention of the entire crowd, he ordered the groups to stand in line. The subjects quickly complied, fearful of a flogging or being turned into servitors.

Inspecting each face in the room, he then called out, "Subjects no. 35, 45, 87, 98, 116, 123 and 127, you are to report to the tech-priests immediately; you have existing physical anomalies that have been deemed too severe for continued duty in the Emperor's most Holy Service."

Four boys and three girls were ushered off into a side entrance. Marcella had a sneaking suspicion that they would be turned into servitors.

"Subject No. 170, you are to report to Ruhr Foules' office after the first training session. A Ordo Xenos Inquisitor have requested more information on the xeno artifacts trading ring that you uncovered on your homeworld. She will be arriving shortly, as well as Chastener Taremann and Judge Chatham," he gestured to her.

She perked up; she hoped that this would be a reprieve from her situation. The fact that both of her mentors were arriving on this ship to help this particular investigator resolve the illegal trading ring meant an opportunity to sneak off this damnable ship, or even join the retinue of this particular person.

But it seems that Briar had figured out what she was thinking, as he approached her.

"Going to Scintilla and studying up on capture and torture techniques is a waste of your potential. The fact that you are a powerful psychic null is why we took you in order to refine this gift to it most lethal potential," he reminded the teen.

* * *

 **The credit for CIXIV goes to Banterhorse; the writer's story Death Stare of the Emperor is quite funny.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _ **On the Unwavering Resolver**_

Marcella Snow sat in the conference room; alongside her sat her two mentors, Baltir Chatham and Taremann. On the other side was Briar, Foules and a tall, grizzled woman with an eyepatch bearing the Inquisition sigil on it.

The table on it was filled with pict-snaps of the incriminating evidence. The list that Briar had found was also splayed out on it.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Inquisitor Kannu Escholan of the Ordos Xenos. The fact that you discovered this trading ring speaks a lot to your initiative, Snow. When I investigated another ring I discovered that ring led me to this group from the correspondence of one of the members, Helga Ruh. She apparently had purchased many illegal artifacts from the other group, and I intercepted many of her packages. She attempted to purchase a Halo device some time in the last year; I was able to stop the sale from taking place," the woman stood up.

"I saw the tau artifact in my headmaster's office, as well as the shruiken rifle and the wraithbone pendants. I believe that the xeno gun was filched from the corpse of an Eldar aspect warrior, while the wraithbone pendants must've come from dead xeno witches. I am trying to figure out where the Tau one came from," Marcella replied.

"The Tau artifact I was able to trace back to Taros. In M41.995 the vile xenos had give the traitor Lord Aulis this item during a diplomatic exchange. But in M42.002 Aulis was deposed by Federation forces who had came to claim the world for their empire. The Tau there were completely wiped out, and anyone who supported him were either assassinated or executed. His youngest son sold the artifact to a rogue trader after he had fled Taros on his yacht. This trader later sold it to Colby Bantangos in M42.006," Escholan explained.

"It makes sense. I recall that when Bantangos was collecting bribes from the parents of the St. Bekendictos Composite Junior/Senior High he was probably planning to spend it on buying more xeno artifacts," Chatham added.

"And don't forget Aballen Erkan's role in this scheme, Lady Escholan. He was a crooked fraktard who had delusions of his competency. We have reason to believe that he had turned to ol' Tze after being 'snubbed' too many times. The fact that his superiors knew about his incompetency and tried to limit him to the bottom rung contributed to his resentment, and he backstabbed many of his peers in order to rise in the ranks of the Administrium. However, he was killed in a back alley of Hive Holibanus by a death-cultist assassin, and that is something we're thankful for," Marcella nodded toward Chatham.

"He hid his sons from the psyker tithes with the intent to establish a Tzeteenchian coven of sorcerers. This act alone is punishable by death. The fact that the man's greed blinded him to the dangers of sorcery attested to his weakness to the Ruinous powers," Foules had added.

"Before M41.883, the last time a major Chaos cult infiltrated Epsilon Regalis's ranks was in M40.643. The original royal family of the world was possessed by demons. One of the members of the Ordos Malleus, Tyrus fought the demon Kholoth the Excoriator there. Afterwards he ordered the purges of thousands of people in order to keep the world pure," Escholan replied, "Afterwards, this incident was classified a Zeta-classified secret of the Holy Ordos, as this event involved a demonic entity."

"I didn't know of that event, though. There were very few records of that year in the Epsilon Regalis archives," Marcella had replied, "but the fact that it was classified sure explains the absence of such records."

"Exactly," Escholan crossed her arms, "Taremann, I want you to interrogate Helga Ruh while under my supervision. Chatham, you will be joining me for the duration of this purge of the vile ring. Briar and Foules, I want to discuss Snow's fate later in a private conversation. The meeting is adjourned."

* * *

 _Begin Flashback_

 _It was a windy day on Kalto; the people there had bundled up in order to ward off the chill of the autumn. Some people were bracing themselves against the gales, while other chased items that had been blown away by the winds._

 _Dagon Lachirus wandered among the crowds of the marketplace; he was currently disguised as a pilgrim. Two women argued over a giant vase, while a merchant was haggling with a man who looked to be in his late fifties to early sixties over two crates of oranges. When the aforementioned man pulled out a gun and pointed it at his customer he was promptly disarmed, as it turned out that the customer in question was a former Adeptus Arbites; the merchant was arrested on the spot after that little act._

 _Three children played on a make-shift seesaw made from an old wooden oak barrel and a plank while a fourth one, clearly an orphan, watched them from behind a tree on the empty lot next to the market he was traversing._

 _Dagon's thoughts turned toward the objective he was to accomplish; He had been assigned a mission to assassinate the traitorous planetary governor Escob_ _á_ _r La Perqu_ _é_ _z. The man had initiated an attempt to secede to the Federation, and had fortified his planetary fortress in an attempt to guard against Imperial retribution._

 _The intelligence reports had shown that La Perqu_ _é_ _z's guards and forces were fanatically loyal to the man, and that a public all-out strike to remove him would results in a series of massive rebellions, with La Perqu_ _é_ _z as an martyr and a rallying point. This was why Dagon was called in, the Imperium needed a precise scalpel, not a discriminate club._

 _He moved into a nearby alleyway between the nearby Ministry of Justice and the local Sanctum of St. Drusus, and begun the climb up the cathedral. His calculations had determined that the east side of the aforementioned shrine would hold the best angle and the clearest views of the city square, with its built-in podium where his objective would be announcing the changeover to the Federation's control in the coming days during the Festival of the Emperor's Ascension. This event would occur in four days, it was enough time for Dagon to wait and prepare for his upcoming kill._

 _The Vindicare had just settled down in his chosen spot when two hulking shadows came upon him; He quickly pulled out his Exitus pistol the moment he saw the symbols of the Alpha Legion on the ceramite battle-plates of his enemies._

 _The assassin flipped back against the flying buttresses of the Sanctum Imperalis before he leapt over the traitorous Astartes; firing his gun he was able to shoot one in the head. That particular marine dropped dead instantly. Dagon activated his jetpack in an attempt to keep the distance between him and the second Astartes, but this one threw a grappling hook that ended up entangling into his harness._

 _The Vindicare assassin was pulled toward his enemy; he was able to disarm his enemy by grabbing the bolter pistol, but the marine pulled out a monomolecular blade from a sheath in his armour._

 _Dagon's enhanced reflexes allowed him to move out of the way of the knife, but only slightly before it plunged in his stomach. He saw the gaping wound in his abdomen briefly before he blacked out from the pain and blood loss._

 _End Flashback_

The Vindicare woke with a cry; panting in his bed, he sat up. Rubbing his face, he sighed; this flashback had been recurring for the last 22 years. It was of the event that had landed him in Edith Ronnherig's care and led him to hunt down the traitorous Silas Burroughs.

The jackass was on board with Escobár La Perquéz's changeover because he saw the Adeptus Adminstratium's polices to be horribly outdated and ridiculously ineffective. The man had believed that cogitatorized records would cut down on actual paperwork and make processing requests easier but his rivals didn't see it that way, and aimed to block his ascent; he took care of some of them by hiring saboteurs to kill some of them. One woman and her _entire_ family had _burned_ to death alongside _20 others_ in a massive fire caused by sabotaged wiring the previous year.

Another rival had been killed in a tramway; the Arbites investigating that event had suspected sabotage, but there was a dearth of evidence to prove that point. At this point a third rival, a man called Covablis Schellum had discovered Burroughs's roles in these deaths; he had turned the evidence over to the Adeptus Arbites.

The official was stripped of his posting the day after a massive raid had descended upon his apartment. He had fled to La Perquéz with his metaphorical tail between his legs; the aforementioned traitorous governor had covered up Silas Burroughs' whereabouts in an attempt to keep the Arbites from pursuing him.

However, Silas Burroughs must've had eavesdropped on the conversation of the commissiars requesting the aid of a Vindicare assassin; he had hatched a plan that he hoped would work in delaying La Perquéz's demise long enough to let the man reach Federation space. This involved the hiring of two mercenaries from the Alpha Legion, a holo-field generator purchased from Federation intermediates, and a spare shuttle disguised as the governor's personal one, but actually was a giant bomb.

He had the assumption that if the Alpha Legion traitor marines failed to kill the assassin, then the holofields would trick Dagon Lachirus in thinking his target was dead. The bomb was another contingency plan; it was wired so that it would trigger when anyone tried to defuse it, it would explode instantly, killing the interloper in question.

But unfortunately, Burroughs had disregarded one thing; Imperial assassins were quite adaptable. Dagon had made the (correct) assumption that the shuttle in question would be booby-trapped, and chose to sneak on a shuttle carrying shipments for the long trip to Federation space. He laid in wait for the very moment when La Perquéz was alone, and shot him in the head before fleeing on another shuttle he personally piloted himself.

Dagon looked up to the shelf holding his most precious things. There were his Exitus sniper rifle and pistols, as well as several rounds of various types. There was also an old wooden teething ring that Julores had chewed on when she was an infant, a framed photo of Edith Ronnherig, and a second one of him cuddling his sleeping two-years-old daughter.

Julores had been a huge help to him on some of his missions, as she was able to sneak in and determine if his target had changed locations or plans. One particular time she had eavesdropped upon a conversation between two PDF soldiers; they mentioned that his target had gone off-planet. After she had told him, he had confirmed it by hacking into a nearby cogitator. This had led him to the Mechanicus-run asteroid space-station of Kappa-Sholta 205. The mission had been an unadulterated success as Dagon had planted a bomb in the fusion reactor of this station. It had exploded, wiping out the entire crew of hereteks, as well as his target there.

During another incident, this time on the Hive-world of New Sareptar, the planetary governor Severus Justorrach had seceded from the Imperium; during a festival Dagon had been sent to assassinate him. Julores had stole the holo-field belt the traitor had used to evade potential assassins. This had the desired effect of drawing the man into position so he could make the necessary shot to off him.

He took out his journal and a pen and begun writing in it, collecting his thoughts.

* * *

Two young girls stood in a combat ring; both looked to be around five or six years old. One was tall for her age; she had bright green eyes and her mousy hair were tied up in a childish ponytail. Her opponent, a dark-skinned, raven-haired girl with a messy afro struck first with a childish kick that staggered the other girl temporarily, but she answered with a vicious punch to her opponent's belly that had took the air out of her. The black girl had responded in turn by forcibly pushing her to one of the wall; hitting her rival's head against the wall had produced a fracture in the aforementioned girl's skull that had disorientated her to the point that the black girl was able to finish her off with a well-aimed knife strike to the heart.

Next came two boys, they traded potshots at each other while circling each other in this combat ring. They even gave each other crude gestures that wouldn't be out of place in the underhives of Epsilon Regalis, something that the adults watching had found irritating. The first one, a mousy-looking boy with an appropriately squeaky-sounding voice launched himself at his opponent, using his momentum to knock his victim down. The second boy feinted in order to make an opening, but this action left him open to another strike from the aforementioned boy, and he found himself being struck in the ribs by his rival. This had broken a rib in his side. But he answered with a ferocious kick that had broken the first boy's leg. The aforementioned boy then took out a plastek shiv that he stabbed into his opponent's neck, rending him unconscious. The second boy had his neck broken afterwards.

Marcella Snow watched these matches with grim detachment; from what she had seen of these children, some of them weren't even worth the investment in her opinion. Some of them were juvenile cutpurses that had been caught by the Arbites and Briar had conscripted them as punishment for their admittedly minor offences. Others had some sort of serious psychological disorder; she had suspected that some of them had either antisocial personality disorder, or avoidant tendencies. And some of the more manipulative ones had some form of histrionic personality disorder, as evidenced by the excessive attention-seeking tendencies and attire, which certainly was skimpy even by Imperial standards.

She knew that these with this type of personality would likely be killed off in the first rounds, as they were more likely to make grandiose displays that often attracted attention. Judging from what little she knew of the Imperial assassins, they preferred to work silently and without attracting any attention, and drama queens like them were ill-suited to this kind of life.

Marcella believed that she wasn't suited to this type of work; she was much more vocal and she valued brutal honesty over lies and intrigue. But even she had admitted that manipulation had it uses, when she had exposed Motha'Lu Chablis which she had suspected was a corrupt and lying drama queen who often stole funds earmarked for housing projects and Schola use. The fact that the woman had supported the Hygthoran family, who was now banned from the current ruling elite for their attempts to make Epsilon Regalis a separate entity apart from the Imperium certainly didn't help matters.

She had recalled that she wasn't sent to the Schola on her homeworld because both Baltir Chatham and her mother had suspected for years that the headmaster of that facility was feigning loyalty to the Imperium. When the two had visited the facilities, they like Briar now, had found the educational experience to be woefully below standards. Some of the students there were indulging in practices forbidden in other Schola facilities, and a small portion of children disappeared monthly, never to be seen or heard from again. Other children seemed to be frightened of the drill abbots; they also had some incontinence problems, and problems sitting, standing and walking.

This had aroused their suspicions; They had tried investigating this man but it turned out to be a dangerous endeavor, as the unnamed headmaster had powerful connections who often overlooked the conditions at the Schola Progenium in exchange for a steady stream of money and sex slaves. These supporters had sent assassins after them, but both Chatham and Mother had killed them.

They knew that the problems at the Schola warranted Inquisitional attention, but it needed to be an exercise in subtlety. Briar had taken care of the problem at hand by personally assassinating the headmaster, while his followers captured the majority of the abbots and had them personally executed in front of their fellows in order to send a clear message. Marcella had assumed that it would take years to fully replace the staff at the Schola on Epsilon Regalis.

This was the precise reason why Baltir Chatham had recommended St. Bekendictos Composite Junior/Senior high for her; from the tours of the school both arbitrators had noted that the teachers there were extremely loyal to the Imperial Cult, and the high standards that they set for their students had impressed them.

"Trainees 113 and 170, step in the combat ring," The intercom blared to life, interrupting Marcella's internal monologue. She gingerly stepped in it; while her opponent, a brash teenage girl skipped to the opposite side.

Marcella knew she had to err on the side of caution; this girl seemed to be confident in her abilities and she knew it. The two circled around each other, eyeing each other suspiciously. Her opponent threw a punch that she barely dodged, before she kicked the girl in the shins. This caused the aforementioned girl to veer over, but she quickly got up. The girl then tackled Marcella to the floor; she aimed a punch at her eyes, but she was able to catch the punch. Kneeing the girl in the crotch, she forcibly pushed off the girl. As she stood up she stood up, her fist ready to block any more incoming blows, but her opponent kicked her in the shins; she tripped. Marcella then punched the girl in the right eye, even as the girl did the same to her left eye.

After both girls stood up, both circled around each other, before the girl took out a dagger and aimed at Marcella's left side. It left a deep cut that promptly bled, but she disarmed her opponent; waiting for a window of opportunity, she tackled the girl and plunged the dagger into the girl's heart once she had spotted her opponent's vulnerability.

After the girl's body was carried off by servitors Marcella returned to her seat; she had won her initial match, but she knew that there would be many more. The fact that many of these children didn't survive these matches spoke a lot to the Officio Assassinorum's mentality toward training new recruits. The weak and the unworthy needed to be weeded out in order to nurture the strongest and the most promising candidates.

* * *

Julores Ronnherig watched her father train in one of the training room; he was currently fighting his way through a gaggle of specialized training servitors. With one precise and well-aimed kick he had knocked one of them over; with a series of precise strikes, each one fulfilling a specific purpose, he disarmed some of them. Flipping over one servitor, Dagon kneed one in the neck, shattering it neck. A second servitor had been sliced in half by a chainblade he had ripped off a third one, before the fourth one had his head blown off by his Exitus pistol.

"Snow told me that she'd heard some rather nasty rumors about one Vonderous Chalices. Something about him being a purveyor of torture and snuff porn. She told me she searched for the evidence to prove this point but there were very little to go on, besides the rumors," Julores crossed her arms.

"I recall that the guy was rumoured to be behind the assassination of his father a few years ago on Borthamon XIV. It had something to do with 'steering the family dynasty in a bold new direction,'" Dagon replied, "I've had suspicions about Chalices for a long time; I recall that his grandfather had sent him to my Schola in an attempt to humble him. But the man himself died under mysterious circumstances, and his father withdrew him from it a week after his death."

"Maybe Chalices's father poisoned his sire in an attempt to get back at him for sending his grandson to the Schola? It would make sense as the nobles themselves aren't renowned for their humility, Father," Julores ruminated.

"It is possible, Julores. I recall from memory that Chalices was often overindulged by his parents. They bribed, gifted and pampered him as he was the only child of their couplings. I also noticed in later years that the Chalices had a disproportionate numbers of miscarriages and stillborns from the mid-840s on, which led me to suspect that the family was heavily inbred to the point it was becoming detrimental," Dagon answered.

"Speaking of inbred families there are too many that fit the bill in the Imperium. The Malfi fools are one example, as well as the Escher line on Necromunda," Julores nodded as she stood up and approached her father; passing another sets of rounds to her father.

"Not to mention the fact that their vainglorious ways blind them to the dangers of indulging in forbidden knowledge," Foules's voice intruded in their conversation, "Last year I had to co-ordinate a massive purge on Sarchoria of the ruling families there. They had begun exploring the ways of the warp and they had set up the things needed for a ritual to summon a daemon, but we got there in time and took apart the altar, and the cults. It required a company of Black Templars and an entire convent of Celestians. An entire brotherhood of Gray Knights was on standby, in case the ritual was successful."

"Why am I not surprised by the arrogance shown by these families?" Julores facepalmed, "Every time an idiot tries something like that it often backfires, with spectacular results."

"I recall that pride often stands at the heart of corruption," Dagon replied, "pride in the self, and in achievements, as well as in worth. It's little wonder that the Ruinous powers often target the rich and powerful as a shortcut to ingratiate themselves in the planet's society."

"Exactly," Ruhr Foules nodded.

* * *

Marcella giggled to herself as she perched upon a beam in one of the hallways; a bucket of ice water was perched in front of her, carefully supported by a single hand. She was lying in wait for the bastard Inquisitor who had forced her into this damnable life. She had hoped that this little prank would persuade Briar to let her go.

When she saw the aforementioned man coming up the hallway, she knocked the bucket over as soon as he passed under the beam she was on. Briar's face was priceless as he cried out in shock, then annoyance as he got soaking wet as a result. He looked up and saw her; the fact that she had pulled off that prank wasn't lost upon him.

Briar forcibly pulled her from her perch and marched her to a nearby room, and left. Looking around the room Marcella had noted that in one corner there was a large adamantium panel. It had two strong manacles, and she assumed that it was designed to hold a full-grown adult female. The girl had heard stories of flogging during her time studying under the Arbites; many of these who received floggings often died, either from septic shock or bacterial infection afterwards. The few survivors of these punishments had been left with an intense hatred of the Arbites afterward. It was little wonder that these who tried to forment rebellion among the populace in an attempt to remove them from the equation often ended up fleeing to the putrid embrace of the Ruinous Powers.

Marcella wasn't stupid enough to follow their example; she had theorized that maltreatment by abusive authorities often contribute indirectly to the spread of Chaotic taint. She had theorized that the reason the fall of Hallourn XV occurred was that these ten rogue psykers had experienced some form of maltreatment in their lives and they wanted to get back at these who abused them. This had possibly backfired in some fashion, as in their attempt to take revenge the corrupted psykers had inadvertently let demonic entities into their minds, and the rest was history.

Even if the Inquisition had succeeded in eliminating the Demicarchs, as these psykers were known there, there were still numerous risks in leaving Hallourn XV as it was. Marcella had assumed that the Lord Inquisitors there had decided on Exterminatus in order to mitigate all risks coming from the Chaotic taint there.

Briar picked up a small rattan cane; grabbing one of Marcella's hands he struck it against her again and again. She cried out in pain; the caning was an far cry from the gentle methods that her mother had used to chastise her when she did something naughty, but the fact that she had angered him was not lost upon her.

He left the room after he had administered thirty-five strokes against her hands. Marcella wiped away the tears that had begun to form in the corners of her eyes; standing up she tried to find a way out of the room she was in. The door was obviously locked from the outside, as was the ventilation ducts.

Her thoughts turned to one of the names on the list that Briar had found; when Marcella had saw one of the names, she had instantly recognized one name in particular: Vonderous Chalices.

The man was rumoured to have created dozens, even hundreds of torture and snuff pornographic vids, but what little she could find on him was all hearsay, and not one shred of evidence turned up. She had suspected that Chalices had covered his tracks so convincingly well that he didn't show up on the Inquisitional radar.

The other thing that she had uncovered was that he was responsible for the murder of his ex-lover, one Hayden Perdaxias. The fact that her body was found dumped in an alleyway near the Joyful Lion Studios nearly 62 years ago, and the precious little evidence that the verispexs had recovered from the body indicated that she had been violently raped before she was strangled. The fact that the DNA recovered from the semen of Perdaxias's killer didn't match Xenithos Fulgrim's only meant that there was another serial killer roaming around. When Marcella had compared this strand of genetic information to another DNA strand extracted from a cup of caffeine that she had swiped from under the aforementioned man's nose, it turned up as an unexpected match. This had convinced her two mentors to keep an especially close watch on Chalices.

The door suddenly opened; Briar and Escholan entered the room. Marcella anticipated the moment that her fate would be decided.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Briar sighed for the umpteenth time as he waited for the Lady Inquisitor Kannu Escholan to show up. He was still angry at Marcella Snow; the obstinate little brat had embarrassed him to some degree with her antics. The fact that she had dumped ice water on him fairly recently still showed to an extent in his clothing; he was shivering, despite the heat of the room.

He looked down at the papers splayed out in his office; some of them were requests for potential assassinations. One paper was for one Melrigo Gingrichs, a notorious heretic cleric who had foiled various attempts to capture him for interrogation. The inquisitor pursuing him had put in a request for a Callidus to infiltrate his inner circle in a desperate, last-ditch attempt to halt the traitor's plans.

A second request was for an Eversor; the planetary governor of Vashabetius Secundus in the Scarus Sector had turned heretic, along with his entire family. The Ordos Malleus inquisitors suppressing the Chaotic uprising there had decided that the aforementioned assassin was their best option at weakening the insurgency, as cutting the head off the beast often disrupted orders from coming down the pipeline to the lower ranks.

He could still recall the time the High Lords of Terra had authorized the kill-order for the Prodeur family a little over two years ago; the fact was that the heretic fools were aiding and abetting an inquisitor corrupted by the minor Chaos god Malice. CIXIV had been sent on the mission there, but he vanished during the event there. When the Ordos Sicarious inquisitors investigated his disappearance, they discovered evidence of a warp rift but nothing more could be found. The aforementioned killer was written off as likely KIA.

"Briar, it is time we have a parley regarding Snow's fate," Escholan said as she entered Briar's office, "I want to train her as an acolyte. Some of my students were killed recently and I have been searching for replacements."

"I intend to turn her over to the care of the Culexus temple. She is a powerful psychic null, nearly Omega-level," Briar snapped back, aggravated by the woman.

"Snow is an excellent investigator, despite her condition. It is a clear fact that she was able to uncover several groups of traitors; it speaks a lot to her intelligence and dedication. You intend to waste this potential by making her into a killer, but I don't think it is going to happen," the woman sighed.

"She can be quite defiant and unruly at times. I've been on the receiving end of her antics at least twice. She drew on my face and splashed ice water on me. I've caned her for that behavior," Briar rubbed his temples.

"That fire can be redirected in the Inquisition," Escholan answered, "She wouldn't be content blindly following orders. When she talked to me, she told me something. It was her opinion that blind obedience is something that Tzeentch takes advantage of when he is planning his schemes. He often plants cultists disguised as Emperor-fearing cardinals and governors and use them as he pleases, be it sowing dissent among the populace or the people there blindly following the orders of their corrupted leaders."

"The fact that many of the radical & monodominant inquisitors have been deceived by the siren song of Tzeentch in recent years speaks to how deceptive the Architect of Fate really is," Briar agreed.

"I recall that Colby Rhasc had developed some kind of god-complex during his time in the Inquisition. He had eliminated two hundred thousand worth of Chaotic groups during his career. Some of his notable achievements included the first purging of Sarchoria. The archdeacon there turned to the Ruinous Powers, along with his fifty fellows. He ordered the brutal killings of more than half of the Ecclesiarchy there, and even went as far to request the aid of an Eversor assassin in order to contain the taint," Escholan reminisced, "But these achievements ended up swelling his ego, and he couldn't cope with the devastating defeats he was dealt in the years leading up to his corruption."

"I recall too many of the planetary governors that the Officio Assassinorum had to liquidate over the years were much the same mindset as the traitor. I recall that one governor, Annesh, was quite enamoured with his own cleverness. He had accounted for an assassin showing up to eliminate him and placed a bomb inside his own palace. But we knew that he would do that and had two assassins deployed. The Callidus succeeded where the Eversor didn't. His face was priceless when he found himself out maneuvered.

That incident, if I recall correctly occurred in M41.991. Ever since, many of the planetary governors who were contemplating secession plans were scared shitless for the next ten years," Briar noted as he leaned back in his car.

"I recall one governor who was much like Annesh. His name was Chester Boralvos. He booby-trapped his palace, put a decoy in his own place and even killed all of his bodyguards in a desperate attempt to evade the Callidus following him. The assassin just dispatched him while his guard was down. It goes to say that nearly no one can escape the Officio Assassinorum's notice," the female inquisitor replied.

"Aye. I remember him, too. Arrogant twat, that one. He even taunted the operative during his attempts to escape his fate," Briar agreed.

"Exactly. The agent on his case was understandably quite pissed off at him," Escholan nodded, "But let's get back on topic. The fact is I want to take Snow under my wing, but why are you resisting the idea?"

"She killed two psyker boys, Escholan. That was why I decided to take her in, so she could be taught the necessary control," the male inquisitor replied.

"I can arrange that kind of tutelage during the training as an acolyte," the woman replied.

"The Culexus Temple has the most expertise in training people like her. Even if you took her under your wing, there are numerous risks in leaving her as she currently is. The girl would likely end up unintentionally killing people around her," Briar sighed again as his hand met his face.

"The fact that she hasn't done so shows a high level of subconscious control, but even it can potentially fail," Escholan noted, "I concede, the Culexus temple may be the best place for her."

* * *

Marcella Snow looked upon the two inquisitors; she squirmed as the two looked at her, scrutinizing every part of her. She knew that they had news for her, but the fact wasn't lost upon the teenage pariah that they were about to decide her fate.

"Snow, we have discussed your fate, and we have decided that it would be best for you if we sent you to the Culexus temple for training," Escholan spoke as she crossed her arms.

"I don't give a—," the girl was about to spout off one of her profanities, but Briar wasn't having any of the girl's antics. He took the cane that he had used to administer discipline to the girl earlier and grabbed one of her hands. Briar then struck it again, causing Marcella to wince in pain.

" **ENOUGH** with the cussing!" he roared at her. Marcella blew a raspberry, clearly not enjoying what Briar was saying.

"The fact you have to face is that you inadvertently killed two psyker brothers with your presence. This is why we decided that the Culexus Temple would be the best place for you," He explained.

"Culexus my ass," Marcella rolled her eyes, "I'd rather be back home on Epsilon Regalis, or serving in Escholan's retinue."

"Don't insult the Temple, Snow. They have the expertise and experience in training people like you, and we stand by our decision," Escholan snapped back, clearly annoyed by the teen's antics.

Marcella rolled her eyes before she blew another raspberry.

 _ **SLAP!**_ Briar stuck hard at her hand, causing it to bleed. The girl cried out loudly in pain again. She instantly understood what the man was insinuating with his words and actions. He wouldn't tolerate any more acts of defiance from her.

When the two Inquisitors left the cell she was in, Marcella looked at her bleeding hand. She stared at it for a moment before standing up and following after them.

* * *

Even after 22 years, her father's hands still shook when he recalled that day; Julores knew that whatever had happened to him had left him with irrecoverable mental scars. He had often woken up in a cold sweat, panting, and his posture was often defensive.

But he was a good father, and was strongly protective of his only remaining family member. When Julores was captured by some heretics, Dagon had gone on the warpath, ruthlessly killing anybody who was in the way. This was followed by the man torturing some of the members of this band he had located in a cold-blooded way that absolutely sent shivers down the rest of Briar's retinue. After the group had located the cult, Julores watched as her father coldly and silently walked up to the heretic leader and shot him in the head with his Exitus pistol.

"Don't. You. Dare. Lay. A. Hand. Upon. My. Daughter!" was the exact words he had uttered to the man before he killed him. Adding to the horror of the scene, Dagon's voice had an absolutely harsh undertone that was quite chilling to hear. Julores was only four years old at the time, and she had never seen this side of him before.

Ever since she turned eight, he had begun to teach her the arts of sniping, as a way to ensure that she had the needed skills to survive in harsh circumstances. Her first successful kill had been a heretic woman who had begun amassing a small cult around her, and Julores had been sent in to eliminate her. The fact that this place was gene-locked to the female gender didn't help matters, and Dagon had been unable to break it. She had snuck into it, clad in a trainee Vindicare synthskin suit, sniped the woman the way her father had taught her and pulled the trigger. The woman had dropped dead the moment the shieldbreaker round had hit her in her head, as the woman had carried a rosarius that she stole from a deceased Ecclesiarchy priest.

Her second kill had been a daemonically possessed man on the world of Eustis Major. He had dabbled in forbidden Warp energies and ended up with the dire consequences as a result. Briar had sent Julores to kill him as Dagon had been occupied with his duties for the moment. It was a successful kill as the objective had been liquidated before he could cause any more damage.

"Father?" she spoke up, "Any news on the new recruits?"

"Most were good, but not the level of excellency that the Officio Assassinorum demands for recruits. Only five stood out in my mind. Benjya, the serial killer Clovinus Hygthoran, Seiji Motoji, Keira Tseniya and Marcella Snow.

Benjya is quite a loner, and an effective sniper at that. His aloofness helps him in that he can keep an emotional distance from his enemies. His accuracy is laudable, but it can be further refined under the Vindicare temple.

Clovinus Hygthoran in my opinion, is quite psychotic and sadistic. He has a level of cruelty that is paralleled only by these of the Ruinous Powers. When I saw him crush the head of two young children, I recognized that his talents for bloodshed was unparalleled among the group. He has a notable history of psychosis and anti-social personality disorder. The Eversor Temple will be excited to have this recruit.

Seiji Motoji's propensity for fabrication and impersonation is matched only by Keira Tseniya; These two have a history of mimicking others in order to frame them for crimes they didn't commit. Tseniya impersonated a servant in order to eliminate the rival of a prominent businessman, while Motoji did the same with a rival in order to kill off his betrothed and stir up conflict between two feuding families. This shows to me that these two have the necessary cunning needed to serve in the Callidus Temple.

Marcella Snow, although a pariah of significant power shows a strong subconscious control over her power, evidenced by the fact that she refuses to feed off any souls. However, she has some cunning and an excellent investigative mind, something that we saw when she uncovered two Chaos cults and a xenos artifact trading ring. That, combined with her knowledge of Imperium law, make for an invaluable asset, be it Officio Assassinorum operative or an Inquisitor," Dagon Lachirus replied.

"What about Dewark Cossach and Natalie de Ossman? I saw them, and they seem to have the right stuff for an assassin of your caliber," Julores asked as she laid back on her bed.

"From what I've observed of these two, Cossach's psychosis and sadism is a close parallel to Hygthoran. But Snow told me that he has an acute addiction to pornography, which compromises his suitability. From our experience, Briar often noted that such sexually explicit imagery often opened avenues to Slaaneshi corruption.

De Ossman seems to have warped ideas about sexuality; from what Bhullar sensed of her thoughts, she thinks touching will make thing 'better'. In reality I've noticed that she is quite addicted to sexual intercourse. There isn't a moment where she tries to seduce other people in order to get her daily fix; sometime it succeeds, and other times it doesn't. This trait is a potential vulnerability that the Ruinous powers will likely exploit," her father answered.

"Any negative traits about Snow?," her inquiry was answered.

"She can be quite impulsive and defiant at times. Her mother told me numerous stories of times that Snow defied her rules of not going out the house without her supervision. She is also fond of impulse buys of various sweets, apparently either vanilla or apple-flavored, as well as going on wild, reckless rides down various chutes all over her home district without any thought of the potential dangers lurking there," He replied.

Julores sighed; she instantly understood what Dagon meant. One time the girl had dragged her to a nearby chute on one of the taller buildings. The ride was quite terrifying, but also oddly exhilarating at the same time. It had ended near the street where her home was located, and Julores had to admit that Snow was one of the few who was crazy enough to pull this off.

The girl told that when she was a child she could feel fear, but as she grew up that feeling faded away, although she could express happiness and anger, as evidenced by the antics that transpired yesterday.

Julores could only wonder at Snow's fate.

* * *

The fighting pits had been cleaned of blood and detritus from the events that had transpired yesterday, and now the trainees were sitting behind the screens. Some of them had been marked as unworthy, after some of their antics had revealed their true nature. One boy had an obscura stash in his room; he had been dragged out of it, and branded with the High Gothic word "ADJECTIO" on his chest, while a girl who bore tattoos of Slaanesh on her wrists had the same done with the word "HERESTIO" on her head.

These two, along with eight other marked boys and girls were promptly tied to the poles set up in the fighting pits. They begged and screamed for mercy, but they received none, as masked men and women stepped into the rings.

" _Subjects no. 13, 27, 36, 62, 75, 96, 128, 132, 137, and 155, step in the ring_ ," The voxcaster blared to life. Five trainees of each gender entered the ring. They were handed a knife, and waited for their respective instructors to begin. This lesson was particularly focused on anatomy, and where to strike in order to most efficiently end the life of their victims.

Marcella watched silently, somewhat ill at the thought of ending the lives of these children. But she knew that it had to be done, it was necessary to cull the weak and the weak-willed ones.

One of the victims, a little boy of around nine years in age screamed as his thigh was slit open to reveal his femoral artery, while the same heretic girl that Marcella had glimpsed had her chest cut open to expose her brachiocephalic artery. Her eyes darted to every tied-down individual; they all had exposed arteries of some kind through their cuts.

"Arteries are oxygen-carrying vehicles inside the body that deliver the necessary supplies for cells to live and divide. Cutting off one of them often cuts off the oxygen supply to that limb or part. Some of them are _more vital_ than others and cutting these will prove fatal to the unfortunate victim," One instructor explained. He signalled to the chosen subjects; They quickly cut the exposed veins of the unfortunate victims. The blood gushed from the bodies, with the cries of the victims soon stopping at various points of time as they choked, gagged or stopped breathing. A bunch of servitors then cut down the now-cold bodies from the pole and took them out of the room.

A second group, this time consists of three boys and four girls were dragged into the fight rings; they, like the original ones before them were tied to the vacated poles. They shivered in fear at what they knew would signal their demise.

"ANYBODY HELP ME? BY THE-,"

 _ **BANG!**_ The unfortunate girl who spoke too soon found herself with a hole in her head, and her head lolled to one side as she took her last breath.

Marcella looked around the room; most of her fellow trainees had looks of shock as they were forced to witness this gruesome scene. The fact that the girl was shot in the head sent a clear message to the rest; They would not beg for help or mercy if they ever ended up in this position.

" _Subjects no. 17, 33, 55, 121, 140, and 170, please step in the pit_ ," Marcella meekly did as she was told, as she knew that if she defied, she would be shot, too.

As she approached the girl she knew she would be forced to kill, she noted the male instructor standing beside the tied up girl; he gave her the knife.

She could see the fear in the crying teen's eyes; Her red hair was braided in nine strands, and she was unusually developed for a teen her age. Marcella's body in comparison was still growing; she still had breast buds, despite the fact that her menses had came in when she was twelve.

Stepping up to the girl, she steeled her resolve and plunged the knife in the chest right where the brachiocephalic artery was situated. The blood begun to gush out with each beat, and it was in that moment that she realized that this girl was going to die and it was all by her own hand. Marcella felt a bit of regret in that moment, but she realized that the first girl, the one she had killed earlier was also a victim of her, and she felt even more regret for that one.

It was when the body was carried away that she found a paper with her victim's name written on it: _Natalie De Ossman._ It had obviously fallen out of the girl's pockets.

* * *

Briar watched the proceedings with an grim interest; Natalie De Ossman had been identified as one of the unworthy after it turned out that the girl was _literally_ addicted to sex. He didn't want agents who could end up being liabilities to the Imperium; Asaid Virenus and LIIVI were two examples. It was a well-known fact in the Inquisition that addiction was firmly in the domain of the Prince of Pleasure. Many of his followers were often addicted to various substances, and often sought more depraved and forbidden pleasures in order to sate this condition.

Marcella Snow had done well in dispatching her, although the fact that she felt regret for doing such an act indicated to Briar that she wouldn't take any pleasure in killing. She clearly didn't understand that killing in the Emperor's service was viewed as an honor and a holy act.

But if there was one thing that Snow knew, she could separate what was mindless slaughter and what was not. The girl had told Briar and Foules a story about one of the platoons that her father had served in when he was a young man. They had forgot who they were killing in the name of, and as a result they had became corrupted by the Taker of Skulls. Angelos Engelbrecht, his commissar had to execute them as a result and he was the sole survivor of that group as he had objected to the mindless atrocities they committed against civilians. Her father had personally ratted the bunch out to the man after he had noticed hints of their corruption.

Briar's father, Egrel had an similar story; his tank squadron had been corrupted by the Prince of Pleasure after a lengthy stay on a pleasure world somewhere in the Ixniad Sector. They turned against their superiors and slaughtered them before going on a rampage, torturing, raping and murdering innocent civilians in their path. When the Inquisition was called in to address this problem they had no choice but to use the services of a local Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes to wipe out this problem.

Egrel had told the Inquisitor that he strongly objected to going to a particular club that he felt went against the norm of what was moral and decent; this place often trafficked young girls who were kidnapped from their homes or orphanages and sold them on to the depraved nobility of that world. To make it worse, he had harboured suspicions that the venue was hiding something dark. His worst fears were confirmed the day his group defected to the Ruinous Powers.

After this club was investigated, the Inquisition brutally killed every clubgoer in it, blew the building up and hunted down the owners of this unholy place. The poor fools were subjected to every known Action in the interrogation chambers of the Inquisitorial base that they were taken to, in an futile attempt to crack the case wide open. But when the psykers had used the Emperor's Tarot cards to divine the root of this little problem, it had all led to the Pistorius Family. This family was collaborating with the Emperor's Children, and had planned to set up a Slaaneshi uprising against the Imperial authorities on that planet. An Eversor assassin was dispatched to eliminate the whole family three months later, and the actual massacre had occurred during the engagement party of the youngest scion of the patriarch.

Briar rubbed the bridge of his nose; he had lost count of how many times he had dispatched agents of the various Temples to kill targets that had been determined to be corrupted by the Ruinous Powers. Some of the incidents that he had personally involved in had required the creation of Execution Forces.

One event in particular occurred on the world of Syndel's Gauntlet in the same sector; a Dark Apostle called Maloq Raythok had called upon the entire world to cast off the oppressive mantle of its Imperium overseers. This world had erupted in bloody rebellions all year and even with the Dark Angels, Vlka Fenryka and the Mortifactors suppressing it, it still wasn't enough. He had to send a team consisting of agents of all four main temples deep into Raythok's quarters in order to kill him. All members of this force perished during this attempt to kill their objective, although it was a success.

He signaled to Dagon to get his attention; the Vindicare turned to him, standing at attention.

"Your next assignment-," Briar began, but he was promptly interrupted when a clearly furious Ruhr Foules burst in the room, dragging a crying Snow into the room.

"She was trying to sneak into one of my shuttles in an attempt to escape the path we had set out for her. That was a foolhardy act. She could have potentially put psykers at risk, and that's something that I clearly don't approve of," he sighed in annoyance.

Briar steeled his eyes upon the girl; Snow had tried to disobey his orders again. He sighed again. She would have to learn the hard way that her powers made her a risk to the public.

"Snow, what you tried to do was very foolish. You are a powerful psychic null. What if you lose control of your powers? We would have a hell of a time cleaning up the mess that you caused with your antics," he told her.

Snow was about to blow yet another raspberry, but Briar's glare made her reconsider that line of thought. It was clear to the girl that she would be stuck under his stern and watchful eye for a long time.

* * *

Marcella squirmed as she found herself stuck in Briar's office for the afternoon. She resented the two for not giving her choices, and as she looked around the room she blew a raspberry loud enough to capture the other occupants's attention.

SLAP! She flinched as Briar struck her on the face; Foules and Dagon clearly disapproved of this immature behavior.

"I was once like you, Marcella. I had naïve ideas of defying the Officio and settling down, but I instantly realized the mistake I made years ago. It was a reckless act that left me with a daughter that I was forced to raise myself! When I broke one of the chief protocols of non-fraternity with the public my handlers lashed me over forty times for that offense.

The circumstances were mitigated by the fact that I was willing to raise the child I fathered, and that meant I had to register her under her mother's name to keep people from guessing at the true identity of her father. It was harsh, but I quickly understood that if I broke another protocol I would be instantly killed. This was why I continued in my career as an Imperial assassin, there is absolutely no escape from it except death," Dagon's cold monotone broke the silence.

"Lachirus has a valid point, Snow," Briar reminded Marcella, "Defying orders like that could get you killed."

It was in that moment that Marcella understood what had happened to the girl who screamed for anyone to help her; she had broken the rules of not speaking before she was spoken to. Others had violated numerous rules of abstaining from addictive substances while a few had openly worshipped forbidden gods. They all had been killed as a result, in order to keep liabilities at a minimum.

She recalled the stories her father had told her of many Imperial guardsmen being executed by their commissars for similar behaviors, while others had been sent to penal legions. It didn't matter in the Imperium as in their eyes, all crimes were equal.

Marcella found herself being escorted to her quarters by Briar and Foules, before they locked the door behind her. She could see her bed; it was a single slab of mattress that she found to be extremely uncomfortable, with gray bedsheets and a single brown blanket. In another corner was a desk; it seemed to had been through a lot of wear and tear, as judged by the nicks and marks on the surface. There was a combined sink and toilet in the corner.

She sat on the bed, and cried; she absolutely hated the direction her life was heading in. Even if she tried to defy her superiors she would end up dead, or worse, as a lobotomized servitor.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **Craftworld Biel-tan**

"Farseer Ostiraya, Autarch Syvlis is here to see you," a masculine voice echoed through the Crystal Dome of Biel-tan. In the center of the frozen statues of seers past sat a slender and graceful-looking woman. Her silver eyes were slanted and she had elongated ears typical of the Eldar race. Her skin was an alabaster hue and her straight hair was a purple so dark it looked black in the light.

She was clad in the green and white robes of Biel-tan's Farseers. As she looked upon the Dire Avenger, Ostivelon, her twin brother, both knew that the true battle in this wretched galaxy was one of survival.

They had been born to an Aspect Warrior of the Swooping Hawks and his lover, an actress, during a period of peace. But however, during an excursion to an Amodite world, the Druchii had descended upon the world, abducting thousands of Eldar there. Their mother was one of these who had been taken, and it was the catalyst that pushed their father into his transformation to an Exarch. Both had been only infants at the time, and they grew up in the crèches of Biel-Tan as they were virtually parentless.

"Let her in, brother," Ostiraya nodded toward her only bodyguard. She had divined from her runes that the Blade of the Weeping Queen, a legendary artifact once wielded by one of the ancient heroes of the War in Heaven was located on the frontier world of Cestus Majorus.

During one battle against the Ancients's enemy, the unknown heroine that wielded it had laid low an bunch of warriors there. Her love had been killed during the battle there, and in her grief the heroine had taken up her blade. She had slew the Necrontyr responsible for her life-mate's death, before succumbing to her wounds.

The Collective of the Seers had forseen the need for this weapon in the coming battles, and she had spent four passes divining where the item was located. She had even gone on excursions to trace the last footsteps of the last known heroine to wield it in battle.

"Let her in," Ostiraya replied, as she threw three more runes; the symbols she drew were Forbearance, Caution and…Oblivion. Her eyebrow raised; these were bad omens. Biel-Tan would need to draw upon the wisdom of its ancestors in the Infinity Circuit, as represented by the Forbearance rune. The need to carefully tread the paths set out for them was evident. The Caution rune foretold it. But the Oblivion rune was the most confusing of it all; was it directed at her or Biel-Tan as a whole?

"It's good to see you, Ostiraya. I've laid out the plans; for this particular mission, we will be using the wraithlords to siege the compound where the sword is held; from there we'll send the Striking Scorpions and the Shining Spears to infiltrate the building and retrieve it. However, there is the problem of these runes," Syvlis, an unusually tall elder with eyes the color of molten lava and gray hair, replied, "These runes you drew are unusually troubling."

They could remember the last time a Farseer drew the Oblivion rune, it often foretold their death in some form. It was usually at the hands of the soulless ones of the mon-keigh. It was a well known fact ever since Lithandros-Esmanthil of Saim-Hann died at the hands of one of these abominations that the primitive creatures often weaponized them.

One particular victim from Biel-tan's past had been Aniashelwe, she had just become one of the most important seers on the Advisory of Seers when she was found dead inside her quarters. Her body was unusually emaciated, and there was a lingering presence that frightened many of the eldar. Others soon had seizures, and a few even lapsed into unconsciousness.

But when the aspect warriors tried to attack this presence it disappeared as mysteriously as it had shown up. Ostivelon's exarch had recalled seeing a male mon-keigh phase in and out of reality as if it was a ghost, wearing a strange skull-faced helm.

"I recall her death, too. It was a shock to the rest of us. The mon-keigh are an uncouth and foolish lot it seems," Svylis replied.

"And let's not forget the fact that we see the gift of the Ancients as an blessing. But they see otherwise, and often hunt down these who have the gifts," the Farseer replied.

"It's time to meet the Shrines leading the assault," the Autarch replied as they walked down the long hallway leading out of the Dome of Seers.

From what Ostiraya could recall of her own life; she had begun off on the Path of Awakening, before moving on to the Path of the Artist. But when a bunch of Druchii raiders attacked the ship she was on when she was a guardian, this caused her to develop a deep hatred of the Dark Eldar. This loathing had end up leading her to the Shrine of the Valorous Scream, a shrine of the Howling Banshees.

During her time there, she developed a propensity for wielding dual blades, something that few Banshees, save that of the Shrieking Blades Exarchs themselves had done previously. During her time among the Aspect warriors there she had aided in securing key victories on various fronts.

One particular occasion was the Maiden world of Ellindral; a WAAAGH! led by one Midrugga Doomsmashah. The Ork forces had unearthed an ancient cache of Eldar relics, and were incorporating the stolen items in their own creations. Biel-Tan had responded swiftly and dispatched several squads of Aspect warriors, including her own shrine to kill him. She had personally slew two of his underlings, while a Striking Scorpion Exarch had ambushed Midrugga and killed him while he was bellowing orders at his mekboys. The WAAAGH! fell apart soon after the Warboss was killed, fighting each other for supremacy.

Another victory for Biel-Tan was on another Maiden world; the blasted mon-keighs hailing from the Imperium had decided to claim one of them as their own; Fifteen shrines of aspect warriors had been sent to clear out the infestation. The newly settled populace of nearly 50,000 had been brutally evicted, with two-thirds dying while the rest fled on ships away from it.

But however seventy passes ago, Ostiraya's psyker gifts awoke, and she submitted herself onto the Path of the Warlock as a result, where she quickly learned to divine the intention of her enemies, and how to use her psyker powers to destroy her enemies. During her time on this path she had secured many successes for her craftworld by reading the runes in the midst of battles, and divining the skeins of fate in order to anticipate events that often came unforeseen to others.

But she became lost on the Path of the Seer fifteen years ago. It was at first subtle; like the difficulty in casting off her Seer mask during times of repose, but it slowly progressed to the point that she had difficulty keeping herself in the present. It was at that moment that her mentors had realized that she had became one of the few Farseers on Biel-Tan.

Biel-Tan was preparing for war, and Ostiraya and Svylis would be at the forefront of this campaign, and the war preparation was bustling around them. Aspect warriors were double-checking their equipment, while spiritseers scurried around the wraithlords and wraithknights. They were prepping the monoliths for their roles in the coming war.

She stepped up to the podium at the back of Biel-Tan's spacebay.

* * *

A graceful and sinister-looking craft drifted in the void; the body was colored a deepest plum, while the curved windows had been tinted light amber. Inside it stood an inhumanly beautiful woman. She had grayish skin, bright green eyes and violet hair bound in a long ponytail. The holder held six poisoned needles, while her topless chest had two criss-crossing straps that held throwing knives. The green thong she wore showed off her toned buttocks to her best effect, while matching armored boots provided protection.

Her long ears picked up on footsteps; turning around she saw her elder sister, a Lhamaean by the name of Bhradeza. She turned around, noting the ensemble that her family member was wearing. It had been made from the flayed skin of six Tau fire caste warriors that she had poisoned in rapid succession during a raid on a newly settled Tau world.

The mini-dress was dyed a deep midnight blue, with scarlet outlines around the bosoms and shoulder pads that showed off the texture of the material. Around her waist was a belt that held several poison vials and needles. Her deep red hair also had hidden needles in its ponytail holders as well. Her feet were covered in armoured boots that came up to her knees, while on her forearms were spiked bracers; these spikes had poison smeared on them.

"Iremyss, It's good to see you again," The courtesan spoke, her hips swaying with each step.

"Same with you, sister. It has been being…mmm—ninety passes since the last time we met," she replied.

"I recall that our idiot of an uncle had decided to pick a fight with Vect some seventy-hundred passes ago. He got offed by an incubus of the Ebon Blade as an result, "Bhradeza reminisced.

"He was a loose cannon, sister. It was the reason why grandfather disowned him when he was a feckless youth," Iremyss replied.

The siblings reflected on their lives; They were the two youngest children of the Archon of the Withered Hand; Bhradeza was around three centuries old, while Iremyss was only one-hundred and fifty passes old. They had been born to his latest lover, a Succubus of the Cursed Blade. He had discarded his previous lover, a Lhamaen after she had attempted to backstab him with the intent to take over the Kabal.

Bhradeza had joined the Sisterhood of Lhilitu when she was ninety-two passes old. During her time there she gradually mastered the arts of lovemaking and poisons, and even now, she was learning new things. Some of her rivals there had been mercilessly eliminated by the mistresses after several slip-ups that had cost their respective kabals thousands of lives during a few realspace raids. It was something that Bhradeza was not keen on elaborating to others, because it would let other Kabals paint a big target on her back.

Iremyss balanced a throwing knife on her index finger, her lips pursued. This raid had been financed by her father, as well as the Cult of the Cursed Blade. Her mother had specifically requested a Culexus operative for the arena that the cult operated in. This had required some surveillance in order to locate one, as they were so rare that it was difficult to locate them.

A few days they had gotten a lead; the Craftworld of Biel-Tan was about to attack a civilized Imperial World. The authorities there had requested one in order to kill the Farseer there, and the Kabal of the Withered Hand had gathered its resources and planned accordingly. The kabalites was to split up in three groups; The first group, consisting of seventy Incubus initiates who had succeeded in the trials that their respective shrines had given them along with several wyches and kabalite warriors, was to attack Biel-Tan. Their objective was to kill an Aspect warrior and take their Soulstone. The second group would take to the mon-keigh claimed world to claim slaves and loot for their faction.

The last part, which Iremyss was participating in was to board the ship the assassin was on, either kill or capture the staff abroad there and subdue their target for transport back to Comorragh. She shuddered with anticipation, this was going to be interesting.

* * *

A boxy ship, painted a menacing black with a lack of symbols or ornamentation swam through the void. The ship had a precious cargo stashed on it, but to inquire about it without any authorization was likely to raise the ire of certain factions in the Imperium.

The man standing in the bridge of the ship turned around; several crewmembers were at their stations, monitoring readouts and looking out the windows of this particular ship.

"What is the status of Agent XXXIV-IX?,"he asked the two men that had entered the room. One was holding a particular control panel.

"She is ready for insertion, milord," one of the technicians replied.

"Very well. Retrieve her-," the man was interrupted as loud resounding blasts hit the ship. Looking out the windows he could see the sinister shapes of Dark Eldar raiding vessels.

"Emperor-damnit! Chekov, fire the weapon batteries at the vessels! Belasco, make calculations for a warp jump!" he swore.

"The warp drive is still charging, Methos," The Tech-priest replied with a hint of urgency in his voice," The calculated period for the next jump is fifteen minutes and two-thirty seconds."

"Fire up the engines!" he roared.

The ship swerved from side to side, dodging the pulse cannons and salvos of torpedos fired at it. But it was in vain, as a Leech torpedo hit it on the right side, disabling the engines.

"We're being boarded!" one of the crew screamed. Methos swore again, this wasn't going the way he had planned.

He had spent years as an Ordos Sicarious initiate before he had graduated fully as a full fledged Inquisitor. It had occurred six months ago, and this mission had been his first one as a handler.

"Arm the personnel on this ship!" he barked out.

* * *

Tyruss Chalices was walking down the hallways of the nameless ship he was on. Once a promising Stormtrooper candidate, he wasn't satisfied with his marks. He had cheated on some of his tests in order to try and get a better assignment. He had fancied himself as a commissar or Inquisitor, but when the Schola Prefects had dragged him out and accused him of academic sin, it resulted in him being assigned to this hellhole of a ship.

The last twenty years hadn't been kind to the poor fool. His full head of hair was graying all over, he had premature wrinkles on his face. His boss scared the shit out of him, and he had a capsule of poison buried in his brain that was filled with a neurotoxin so potent it could kill in an instant. His superiors could activate this failsafe at any time, as to them he was expendable. It was the same with everybody who was assigned to the Officio Assassinorum as punishment. Like him they had all cheated at the Schola and paid the price as a result.

He had seen the Culexus operative briefly. She was a petite thing, that one. If it wasn't for her extremely disturbing presence, he would have tried to flirt with the girl. During his younger days he was known as a shameless skirt-chaser and often snuck out of his Schola to peek at the naked women dancing in the strip-clubs of the hive he was in.

The left wall of the hallway caved in, and he saw several inhuman figures enter. He panicked, they were instantly recognizeable to him as Dark Eldar. The soldier screamed in terror; he fired off several salvos of lasfire that the wyches dodged easily.

' _I don't wanna be taken to that place!,'_ His thoughts turned to the dreaded torture chamber that was Comorragh; it was a well-known fact that everybody that was not of the aforementioned faction dreaded the dark city and with good reason.

Tyruss winced in pain as his arm was sliced by one of these damned bitches. He fired off another round of lasfire; one of the wyches dropped dead, but it was in vain as a sharp blade nicked his neck and he promptly blacked out.

* * *

Ostivelon stood beside his sister; He was observing the war preparations. Twenty-two thousand Guardians were moving through the paces, while another forty thousand stood at attention. Twenty aspect warriors of the Shining spears and sixty from the Striking Scorpions stood around them, their posture attentive.

The Autarch, Svylis had begun outlining her plan for the assault to recover the ancient blade. The woman had begun as a Howling Banshee, before moving forward to the Fire dragons and then Striking Scorpions, before returning to her original warrior aspect for another twenty passes. She was clad in the colors of her shrine, the Ebon Witch. It was one of the most widespread shrines as it was often found on every major Craftworld. Biel-Tan was no exception.

He could see the banners of the Shadowed Knife, the Obsidian Claws, the Stinging Blades, the Golden Riders and Azurite Lances shrines around him, carried by the Exarchs that were to lead these groups.

They wore armour that was quite ancient, that dated from the days before the Fall of the Eldar. Biel-tan had been one of the earliest craftworlds to flee the ancient Eldar empire during it days of decadence, along with Iyanden and Alaitoc. The early progenitors of the Biel-Tan culture had been the warrior-sages that had led the people during the turbulent early days away from its blackened heart.

The Paths had been a boon to the Craftworld eldar, as it was the only thing that kept them from falling ever deeper into depravity, unlike the Druchii. The fact that his people feel emotions more strongly meant that they would need to disassociate themselves into a "mask" in order to keep themselves from repeating the mistakes of the past was sobering to Ostivelon.

But there were eldar who ended up walking the path of damnation and he didn't dare speak of such things to his exarch, but the Dire Avenger knew their ultimate fate—to be devoured by She-Who-Thirsts. His soulstone was a stark reminder of this fact, and a bulwark against such a fate.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when an explosion resounded from behind him, before several figures leaped out of the hole.

' _By Khaine's bloody hand, these are the accursed sons of the Fallen Phoenix!'_ Ostivelon's eyes widened in horror, before he quickly donned his war mask. The incubus slew guardians left and right, while the kabalites and wyches begun subduing groups of them.

He fired off a volley of shuriken's from his Avenger shuriken catapult. Some of his ammunition hit the wyches, killing them while the rest bounced off the kabalites and incubus's respective armor. The Dire Avenger then strafed between the paths of the incoming, killing several druchii raiders with precise shots from his weapon, before he leapt over the heads of one wych. He took out his ceremonial knife and slit her throat before putting it away and shooting another four of the wyches in the head.

Ostivelon could hear footsteps heading toward him; he instantly recognized it as one of these damned warrior, and tensed, ready to take his opponent down, even if it cost his life.

* * *

It had been a harsh ten years of training in every condition and scenario imaginable. She had adapted to every one of them, even going as far to sabotage the machinery in one particular scenario where she was stripped of equipment. She had learnt every known martial art, trained with every imaginable weapon and even gone through the painful augmentations. Of the hundreds of pariahs dragged to the Fortress of the Soulless, she and five others in her class had been the only ones surviving.

Marcella Snow, formally known to her superiors as subject XXXIV-IX stood up from her bed in the cell she was currently confined in. She had spent most of the entire journey in stasis, as her gift often drove most people insane. Adding to that problem was her propensity to attempt escapes. Her masters had taken note of it during her years training at the Fortress of the Soulless and built this cell so that it could only be opened from the outside by authorized personnel, and the vents were deliberately designed so she couldn't squeeze through it.

On one particular attempt, she was able to get on a Chartist vessel, but three days in the journey she found an exhibition of xeno artifacts. Looking throughout the displays she had seen various things from the various races that the Imperium had battled; she had suspected that the captain of the aforementioned ship had participated in the same trading ring that she had uncovered on her homeworld. After poking around in the filing cabinets of the heretic, she had found a pile of damning evidence, although it turned out to be an entirely different ring.

Unknown to her, her instructor and Briar had followed her into the vessel, and they quickly knocked her out with a sedative fired from a needle gun, but not before they, too had taken notice of her discovery. The captain was stripped of his post and executed, and the intelligence she had found was quickly passed on to the Ordos Xenos. She was dragged back to the damned Fortress shortly after, and her training continued, only under watchful eyes.

The door suddenly slid open; Marcella noticed that the emergency protocols had kicked in. She stepped out of her cell. The auspex arrays of her Animus Speculum identified the attacking figures as Dark Eldar Wyches; they were gunning for her. She lashed out with a vicious kick that killed one wych, and snapped the other's neck. Running down the hallway she found another three, torturing a bunch of Imperial adepta. Lobbing a psyk-out grenade at the wyches, she proceeded to drain their life essences. Moving on to the next room she saw one kabalite warrior standing guard over his captives; he was killed with a precise knife throw aimed at his heart.

Heading down the hallways toward the escape pods, she found one wych blocking her path; readying for a fight she stared her opponent down.

* * *

Ostiraya moved between the pillars of Biel-Tan, using her runes and farsight to divine where the attacks from the Druchii would come. She was accompanied by an entourage of four warlocks, as she was too lost in her visions of the future to discern anything in the present.

She killed one Kabalite warrior with a witchblade thrust through the heart, before beheading another with a deft slice through his neck. Moving to the next room she saw several wyches. Preparing her psyker power, she fried them with her psychic lightning. She then kicked another raider, knocking him over before she slit his throat with her weapon.

The group moved into another hall way; this one was long and winding. They warded off various ambushes from the dark kin, with each individual a deadly maelstrom of potent psyker power. Many dark eldar were fried or sliced to bits, with each new casualty feeding the hunger of She-Who-Thirsts.

Entering a circular room with a fountain in the middle, the group spotted several kabalites raping various Eldar females. Her anger welled and she lashed out with a burst of psychic lightning that had killed nearly half of the kabalites.

Ostiraya had despised the act of rape for obvious reasons; to violate another elder was anathema to the Craftworld Eldar as it reminded them too much of the reason why their people fell. She-Who-Thirsts had been born from the depraved thoughts of the original Eldar Empire, and during the days before the Fall, rape had been unusually common, both male-on-female, female-on-female and male-on-male. The most sickening part had been the rapes of infants, it was an unthinkable atrocity and the people during that time had practiced that.

The fact that most of the Eldar who were in the vinicity of this depraved heart had been devoured by Slaaneth in her birth came as no surprise to the original warrior sages of Biel-Tan. They had warned against the wanton lusts of the old civilizations, and their voice were unheeded by trillions. The few who followed them into the unknown reaches were able to survive because they had decided to follow these people in exile.

A kabalite warrior was sliced in half by one of the warlocks's witchblade, while a second had his brain fried by a psychic burst by another one. The group then moved through one of the of the adjoining hallways, reaching the Singing Gardens of Aniashelwe. It was built by the master landscaper Curuhon as a memorial to his lover after her death, and after that he had switched to the Path of Mourning.

Three Incubus initates were situated in the centre of the garden; They were standing over a trio of dead Dire Avengers. One of them pried the soulstone off a corpse and put it in a pouch. The other moved to do so, but they were quickly disembowelled by a precise strike in the abdomen by Ostiraya and a warlock's blade.

The group held up their blades, ready for a fight. The last initiate slashed at one warlock, but he missed as this warlock teleported and reappeared behind him, before he struck out with his sword. That warrior had promptly blocked with his klaive, before taking another swipe at him. He blocked it with his witchblade before he let out another psychic burst that had stunned the initate. This druchii was promptly beheaded by another warlock.

Suddenly a terrible cacophony resounded through the gardens; all five individuals held their head in pain as the screams of tortured psykers echoed through the room. Ostiraya could see a sinister figure approaching from the side entrance of the gardens; turning her head she instantly recognized it as a Haemonculus.

He floated toward the group, throwing sedative-laced needles from launchers on his back. It embedded in the seers' fleshs, knocking all five out.

Later when Ostiraya woke in the torture chambers of Comorragh, she reflected on the runes she had drew. They had been misinterpreted; the caution, forbearance and oblivion runes had pointed toward the Druchii, not the soulless killers of the mon-keigh. In that moment she realized that the Oblivion rune had a third meaning; forgetfulness.

The torture the Farseer would eventually receive would cause herself to lose all traces of what she was once, and she became another suffering, screaming psyker trapped in one of the Crucibles of Malediction.

* * *

Ostivelon and the Incubus circled around each other, eyeing each other warily. His grip was firmly clenched around his shuriken catapult, and he had his war mask on.

The initate he was fighting charged at him; the Dire avenger was barely able to dodge in time before he fired off a volley of shurikens that hit the Druchii; they bounced off his target's armor. He then took out his ceremonial knife and parried his opponent's strike before he pushed out with a vicious kick that staggered him.

The son of the Fallen Phoenix then sliced his klaive through his armour, leaving a slash that instantly began to bleed. Ostivelon winced in pain, but he kept his focus. He picked up a chainsword from a fallen Striking Scorpion and parried each strike from his enemy with it, before he was able to get behind him. He drove it in the side of the Incubus initate, causing the druchii to wince, before he replied with a vicious slice that sliced off the Dire Avenger's left arm.

Ostivelon knocked his opponent over before he lifted up the chainsword he was wielding and plunged it in the chest of the initiate. His opponent pressed the advantage, doing the same with his klaive. Both died instantly, locked in combat.

* * *

Iremyss gazed at her objective. The operative was a tiny thing, with feminine curves that were balanced by hard muscules. Her arcane skull-faced helm had a mirthless grin on it that reminded the Wych of the helmets that the Dark Reaper Aspect warriors wore. She had personally fought a few of them in gladiatorial combat at her cult's arena.

She took out her razorflail, and lashed out with the weapon. The operative dodged before she seemingly vanished in midair. The Wych listened for footsteps, but the assassin's footstep were so silent it was hard to track the female mon-keigh. Iremyss then glimpsed her target, but before she could bring her razorflail to bear, something rolled to her feet, and exploded. This had the nasty effect of forcing her mind inwards to tear at her own psyche.

She tried to focus, flailing at anything that moved, but it was to no avail. Sudden as quickly as she had come down the hallway, Iremyss fled; she had become paranoid and violent. She sliced the Imperial adepta that had been freed to bits and turned upon her fellows. One wych was sliced to shred by her flail, and she had killed three kabalites with her throwing needles. The gladiator begun having hallucinations of malevolent ghosts chasing her every footstep. She sliced at these monsters, not noticing that they weren't real. In her rampage across the ship she had killed many prisoners and her fellow Kabalites.

Another orb rolled up to her and exploded; Iremyss was so caught up in her insanity to notice it. She found herself dropping into unconsciousness. The Culexus crept up on her while she was incapacitated and snapped her neck, violently. The last thing she remembered was the face of her sister.

* * *

Marcella clutched at her bleeding arm; in the wych's paranoia induced by the psyk-out grenade that she had used to disable her mental capacities the woman's weapon had hit her arm. It had left a deep gash that the synthskin had staunched, but it would scar. She had killed the wych after she had used her last grenade to further weaken her.

Moving toward the escape pod, she saw six kabalite warrior guarding them; she snuck up to at one of them. Taking out a throwing knife, she struck him at the base of his neck, severing the spinal cord, before she picked up his weaponry and shooting another three. She then pulled off a roundhouse kick that knocked the last two to the ground, before she beheaded the first with his blade, and plunged another throwing knife in the other's chest.

Stepping into the pod, she closed the door of it and pressed the button that would jettison her out of the ship.

* * *

Methos had fought valiantly to fend off his captors, but now, trapped in the torture chambers of Comorragh, he shivered.

The haemonculus who had purchased him had a malevolent gleam in his eyes. The Inquisitor screamed as he watched as his arms was sliced off, then he found himself unable to speak. He soon realized what had happened as he saw his tongue, laying in the pile of detritus in the corner of the chamber he was in.

He screamed for days and days through his transformation into an Engine of Pain.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Three years later**

 **The Graceful Star**

Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini sighed for the umpteenth time, this voyage was getting quite tedious quickly. He turned to the mirror in his quarters and gazed at his reflection. His azure eyes scrutinized his reflection; he had chocolate brown skin, raven straight hair that he had tied back in a ponytail and an aqualine nose.

He was clad in a plain red dupioni silk mandarin-collar shirt, camel breeches and simple black boots that he had purchased some time ago to replace his old worn-out pairs. A large brown duster was layered over the outfit. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of mid-priced amasec. Taking out a snifter glass from one of the shelves he proceeded to pour out a serving of the prized liquor into it.

Sitting back in his favored armchair he sipped the drink while he reflected on his upcoming alliance with the Snow family. Kevin Snow had told him that the elder sister, Sirella, was currently in the penal legions because of a murder that had occurred during a wedding. She had killed the bride of the man that she had cast her eyes upon as a teenager in an attempt to make the groom take her as a replacement. But the mother of the Snow family, Myrcella Tyrell, a Judicator, had discovered her deception and had personally sent Sirella on the penal barge to Clandenn II.

The other potential candidates of the larger Snow family weren't better off. Koi Barghelion, a sanctioned psyker had been written off as KIA ever since the _Corvus's Badge_ Incident, while Minako Sarchevona, a Moritat reaper, was dangerously mentally unstable, according to the man.

Snow had also voiced his suspicions that Sirella may have been behind the manipulations that had killed her husband two years after her marriage to him, in an attempt to take some form of revenge on her parents for forcing her to marry an Imperial guardsman instead of the noble husband she wanted.

He had told that of all the possible candidates, he had told Ippo that the only smart match for him was his younger sister Marcella Snow, although he admitted that he didn't had any knowledge of her whereabouts. The reason was that of all the women in the family, she was the only one who was sane, not a psyker or had no ulterior motives.

However, in order to secure the marriage alliance, he would have to find her. It was like looking for a needle in a haystick. There were many women with similar face features as her, but he didn't care for any of the impostors, as they were too airheaded or complete frauds. Ippo was about to take another sip of the amasec when the voxcaster blared to life.

"Ippo, come to the bridge. We have some matters that need your counsel," the voice of his personal Tech-Priest, Hafza Fadia Al-Farsi echoed through it. He stood up, sighing.

"I'm coming, Hafza," he replied. Ippo headed to the entrance of his quarters.

* * *

Hafza, a woman of average height and build, paced around the bridge nervously. Her face had a prominent nose, and her head was covered in a hijab. Her mechadendrites twitched nervously, as she anticipated her master's arrival.

Her scarlet abaya was made of durable material, and there were knee-high slits on both sides in order to enable some kind of mobility. Her lower legs were mechanized replacements that mimicked the human leg perfectly, and her upper legs was covered in black durable pants that ended where her augmented legs began.

She slid a hand in her pockets, fidgeting with the rock she had put there. It had been a habit born of nervousness and she had found it during her childhood on the forge world of Kantrael. Her parents were of Tallarnese stock, but she, as the middle child, had been born there, as well as her two younger sisters. Her older brothers had joined the Skiitari legiones nearly six years ago. The elder brother, Mustapha, had been killed in action during the ongoing Black Crusade, while the younger brother, Mohammed, had been forcibly conscripted into the Inquisition's service because of his status as a psychic null.

Mohammed had written to Hafza about his experiences a few time. He revealed to her that during his tenure as an agent of the Holy Ordos, he had learnt a great many earth-shattering truths, and that he was sworn to keep what he saw a secret, lest the Inquisition execute him. The man had also revealed that he had reoccurring nightmares of his experiences, and the horrors he was forced to witness had made him do terrible things in order to keep them at bay. He was still serving in this Inquisitor's retinue because his master had found him quite useful, it seemed from the last letter that Hafza had received from her brother.

She shifted from one foot to the other; Looking out the window, she could see the escape pod that the Graceful Star had stumbled across drifting in the void. The navigator, Renata, a voidborn stripling of around 25 years, had pulled the ship out of the Immaterium in order to look around before she saw the aforementioned object. The auspex arrays had detected a life sign in the pod. She had alerted Hafza to this discovery, and in turn Hafza had voxed Ippo.

The double doors of the bridge slid open and Ippo stepped in. He instantly noticed the pod.

"When did you find this," he gestured to it.

"Renata was the first to spot it. She alerted me to this. We are in the process of retrieving it, Ippo," she replied.

They watched as the shuttle pulled the object toward the spaceport of the Graceful Star. After the work was complete he summoned the rest of his crew and alerted them to the discovery.

* * *

Renata stepped down the stairs leading up to the navigator chamber; she was curious about the pod and the contents inside. She had been born an orphan on the Chartist vessel the _St. Peregrine_ ; from her third eye she had on her forehead she had suspected that her parents were also navigators. But the problem was that she didn't know from which lineage of the Navis Noblites she hailed.

To make problems worse, when both Hafza and Ippo had helped her investigate her origins they quickly uncovered the fact that Renata's birth was unregistered. This meant that her origins were destined to be obscured for the rest of her life. She was still angry about that fact, but accepted it as another facet of her ill-omened life. From her earliest days spent in the crèches to her days spent as an understudy of the head navigator on the Graceful Star, people had stared at her and whispered behind her back.

She was quite gangly, with copper-colored hair and watery blue eyes. Her nose had a delicate curve to it that contrasted with the awkward angles of her body, while her face was heart-shaped. The wardrobe she wore was unusually utilitarian for a person of her caliber, with an ever-present green jacket & a belt with various tools and knick-knacks attached to it.

Moving down the hallways leading to the cargo bay, she could see that some of her fellow crew members were heading the same way. They wanted to know what was in that pod; it was like a mystery waiting to be revealed.

One member was the resident Astropath, Irri Kelash. She had been born to a noble family on Malfi, although what little knowledge the woman had shared with Renata was that her family was on the rise there. She had been taken on a Black Ship when she was twenty, and at that time she had just begun her career as a solo celloist.

Irri Kelash's parents had tried to hide their daughter from the Inquisition personnel's scrutinizing gaze, but they found her anyway. They had been executed in front of her for their offence. She had been branded a Secundus psyker, and sent for Astropathic training upon her arrival on Terra. Her soul-binding had been horribly traumatic, and she had her eyes burned out and her hair had turned white and brittle as a result.

When she was assigned to her first station, Irri had fled it after a mere 10 weeks, stealthily moving from ship to ship until she had wound up on the Graceful Star.

"I wonder who is in there," Renata rubbed her chin, "Something horrible must've have happened to the ship in order to cause it occupants to flee it."

"I see them… the dark ones taking many… a man of the all-seeing eye is captive. He is broken in pieces and turned in a pain machine. I see a void, fleeing the aftermath. She is all that is left of them," Irri whispered.

Renata couldn't quite decipher many of Irri's prophecies and insights, but based on past events, she had begun to pick up some patterns. From what the crew had seen, the all-seeing eye referred to the Inquisition, while the dark ones were obviously the dark eldar. But what was she referring to as the void?

"I see a broken banshee. A thousand souls screaming! Everyone lost to the dark city!" the astropath screamed as she clutched her head.

Renata's eyebrow raised. That was a new one; what was she referring to with this prophecy?

* * *

The crew gathered around the escape pod. It was an ugly and utilitarian object, with virtually no marking to indicate where it came from. It towered over the crowd at eight feet tall, and Hafza had been fascinated with it.

Ippo circled around the object; looking for a switch that would open it to reveal the occupant in it. Finding one he pressed the activation rune. The doors slowly slid back; as he watched he could see the faint outlines of a female figure; she seemed to be wearing some skull-faced helm. As the opening widened, he began to recognize that the female was a Culexus assassin, as evidenced by the panoply of death that she wore. The psykout grenades must've had been used up during whatever event that had conspired to force her on this pod.

She stepped out of the pod; trying to stand, it seemed that the muscles that the woman had laid unused for some time. The crew stared at this find.

"M-Marcella S-Snow," she spoke softly as she collapsed right into Ippo's arms. He lifted her up and carried her away from the scene.

Hafza's eyes widened. She wondered what must have happened to cause this particular assassin to use an escape pod. All kinds of scenarios ran through her head.

' _Reactor breach? Not likely. Psyk-out grenades seems to be used up. Corsairs? Most likely scenario. 99.9 chances Dark Eldar raiding force. Eldar corsairs much less likely.'_ Her cogitators calculated these scenarios and settled upon a satisfactory answer.

She had recalled that the aforementioned faction had often raided worlds and ships in order to capture slaves and loot. One of her fellow Tech-priests had been captured by them during a voyage. He was never seen again, as it was a well-known fact that to venture into the dark city of Comorragh was like committing suicide.

The mention of this place still made Hafza shudder and with good reason. It was essentially a giant torture chamber for the various realspace factions. Even the Water Caste Tau diplomat that she had met a few months ago had agreed with the tech-priestess's assessment.

"All we know is that Dark Eldar raiders is a possibly," Renata voiced her thoughts, "Irri spouted some strange things that pointed to this fact. Something about a captured inquisitor who was turned into a pain engine and a void fleeing the aftermath."

"Agreed. I reached the same conclusion judging from her attire. The psyk-out grenades, which all Culexus carries on them are missing. This tells me that some kind of altercation must've have occurred that forced her to leave the ship she was on," Hafza noted.

"The thoughts of these damned xenos still scares the Emperor out of me though," the navigator replied.

"May the Omnissiah help us all if they lay their filthy hands upon us," she nodded.

* * *

Ippo headed toward the communal baths of the Graceful star; the assassin he had rescued had long since fallen asleep in his arms. She pressed the face of the helm she wore into his chest, looking for some measure of comfort in his embrace. Her arms had wrapped around his neck.

He entered the mixed gender changing room. The walls of this chambers were tiled in a soft lemon yellow; the benches of this chamber was set in the middle between the slate-gray lockers. He set her down gently, before he looked her over. The black bodyglove had gashes on an arm and the sides. He took care to carefully remove it by widening and tearing it, then peeling the material off. As he worked to remove it he could see more of her cocoa-toned skin, even the naughty bits.

His manhood began to make a tent in his pants at the thought; Ippo ruthlessly suppressed that line of thought. He would not exploit the girl sexually; he absolutely despised the idea of forcing girls to have sex against their wishes. His elder brother had done that before Ippo had hired a death-cultist assassin to kill him because he had viewed the man as a liability to the Bellini name. The problem that the rogue trader had with his brother's behavior was that he was beginning to indulge in some very depraved practices that would have drawn the Inquisition's wrath upon the House of Bellini, and Ippo didn't want that.

He had met up with a Moritat reaper in the alleyways of Fenksworld and paid him an unspecified number of thrones to ensure that his relative would be killed as quickly as possible. His gamble had paid off when a few weeks after he had paid the assassin, the Arbites had found the body of one Forté Bellini in his hotel room, face down with numerous wounds all over his body. The verispexs had been unable to trace the killer and the case had quickly gone cold. He had patted himself on the back for that move to ensure that the Bellini family dynasty didn't get off on the wrong foot.

Ippo began removing the connectors that linked the helm she was wearing to her suit before he gently pried it off her head. The disturbing presence that the girl had begin to rear itself, and it made Ippo dizzy and nauseous. But he pressed on, removing the strange backpack she wore and then the material on her back and arms.

After he had completely unclothed her he turned his attention to her face. He instantly recognized her features as matching an aged-up photo that Kevin Snow had provided him for his search. He resolved to talk to Hafza about extracting a DNA sample from this assassin and matching it to the hairs on the hairbrush that Kevin had given him. This might provide him with confirmation that she really was his younger sister.

He stripped off his clothing & underwear before he lifted her up and carried her to the baths.

* * *

It was subtle; flashes of lights chasing away the darkness that she was in for the last three years. It slowly woke the assassin. As she watched the doors of her pod slowly slid away she could see several blurry figures. One seemed to be some tech-priest, while another wore the marking of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. But the middle one she gravitated toward. He had the bearing of authority and she instantly trusted him.

She stood on unsteady legs; before falling into his arms, she told her name to him. It was shortly followed by the sensation of being carried; she clung to him as his presence gave her some form of comfort. She fell asleep during the walk.

Her eyes opened a few hours later; she could see the room she was in. The walls were tiled with tiny mosaic tiles in varying shades of browns and the classical columns that ringed the small pool she was in was made from good-quality marble quarried from one of the numerous mining worlds in the Imperium. The pool itself was shallow and it was L-shaped, with stairs on the shorter side that provided entrance.

The water was hot, but comfortable. She was floating in it, before she made movements to stand up.

"Marcella Snow? Is that your name?" a male voice caught the attention of her enhanced senses. She turned toward the source, seeing a man sitting in the corner. He had azure eyes, black straight hair and chocolate brown skin.

She nodded. Reflecting back on her mission objective, she had concluded that it was a failure. Her objective was to kill the farseer Ostiraya, but that was before the Dark Eldar had interfered and forced her to flee.

Marcella had heard numerous stories of their antics. Many survivors of such raids had been left gibbering and screaming messes as a result of the lengthy agonies they endured. Her father had told some of them, while others had come from the common gossip coming from visitors to her homeworld. Even Temple assassins like her weren't safe; some of them had experienced the same things that occurred to these unfortunate victims. They usually were given a mercy kill as they were usually rendered mentally unfit to continue their duties.

One such incident had occurred on Agorantion Secundus. While the Callidus assassin code-named Circe-64 was infiltrating the retinue of the renegade planetary governor there, a raid force from the Kabal of the Black Heart had swooped upon the unfortunate world. She had fought off her captors for a few days before she was finally subdued. What the poor assassin had endured during her time Marcella wouldn't elaborate on because it just was _too horrific_ for her to bear the thought of. What was left of the operative mentally and physically couldn't be salvaged, according to what little she could recall of this incident.

"Allow myself to introduce myself. My name is Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini, but everybody on this ship calls me Ippo. The ship you're is on is my personal vessel The Graceful Star," he tod her.

"Thanks for rescuing me," she whispered.

"What happened on your previous ship?" he asked.

"Dark Eldar raiding force," she replied, "Took everybody on the ship. I was the only one who got out."

"REALLY!?" His face had an expression of horror on it. It wasn't surprising when the facts about the aforementioned xenos were taken in account.

"Yes, they struck at the worst possible time," she noted.

When the two mulled over the possible fates of the captives from the ship Marcella Snow had been on, both shuddered violently at the thoughts of the Dark City.

* * *

A broken, screaming mess of a banshee… a thousand souls screaming in the dark chambers of the accursed city… a fleeing black void, the sole survivor of a broken ship. A tormented man, turned into a pain machine, another man begging for mercy as he is injected with chemicals that gave rise to a horrifying transformation, and a woman babbling in a corner, blood seeping from her labia and vagina.

She saw it all in her visions. Ever since Irri Kelash was twelve she had them, and on more than one occasion it had foretold future events. One particular vision she had when she was thirteen had prophesized the end of the Balasta lineage through the corruption of the heiress. This event had become fact the previous year; she had fallen to the Prince of Pleasure's temptations. This had ended up sounding the death knell for the aforementioned family.

Another time she had foretold the Milosevicha heiress's future marriage; it was not to the Rogue Trader she was currently betrothed to at that time, but to the new planetary governor of Kuluth as an hedge against future rebellions. The poor girl had cried all the way down the aisle as she was forcibly dragged by her brothers.

The fact that Irri could hear the fetid thoughts of other people didn't help matters. She could hear the despair, the anger, the depravity and the scheming buried in their heads. The fact that when she first awakened she barely repelled a Great Unclean One who had tried to possess her didn't help matters. This had traumatized her badly and she gained some knowledge of his true name. She had never told the Inquisition of this particular fact. Other psykers, like her weren't as lucky. They had become monstrosities that the Holy Ordos had to purge.

Irri looked over to the steaming kettle as well as the teapot that she had filched from Ippo's personal kitchens. It had a pattern of trellised yellow roses, curved feet and a scalloped lid. It had been a quite old one, and it had been in his family for six generations. She poured the steaming water in it before she had added the chai tea that she had purchased some time ago. The scent of steeping tea filled the small quarters she inhabited.

"It seems that our newest member has woken up. She is currently rummaging around in the clothing section for some new things, since her old outfit was badly damaged," Renata leaned against the wall.

"I recall that I was doing the exact same thing when I arrived on the ship. The emperor-damned robes that I was originally given as an astropath was quite itchy, from what I recall," Irri sipped at her tea.

"And not to mention that they are quite homely," Renata nodded, "tatty little pieces of shit."

"I absolutely hate these damned tubes. So claustrophobic and it doesn't even help the fact that people like me are required to spend years in these things!" Irri shuddered. She could recall the time the superiors had tried to force her to enter one of the astropathic containers. The previous occupant had died a few months previously, and after a thorough scrubbing and replacement of the fluids, they had tried to force her into it. She had fought them off, and they were forced to use a more compliant subject.

"I've seen them while I was on the St. Peregrine," Renata replied, "These containers have the unfortunate side effect of… preserving the dead bodies."

"That, too. I've seen the dead bodies, too," she shuddered violently.

Both women sat in silence as they mulled over the events.

"I've begun to think that your prophecy may be referring to the events on the previous ship she was on. When I first saw her, she was a big void, and her presence tried to suck me into it. I was quite terrified of her. When she told me that everybody on her ship was taken captive by the dark Eldar, everything you said suddenly made sense," Renata put her elbow on the table and rested her jaw in her hand.

Irri merely nodded. That vision had predicted the arrival of the newest member of the crew. She had been confined to the quarters because it had left her exhausted, and she had taken the time to rest and recover. Her thoughts had turned to the Dark Eldar. They were some of the most terrifying threats as they preyed on merchant and military traffic alike. Their taste for depravity was comparable to that of the followers of the Lord of Excess, as they feasted off the agonies of their victims in an attempt to stave off their inevitable doom.

Irri Kelash was fortunate that she hadn't yet witnessed one of their raids; from what she had heard, many people had nightmares of such events. One of them had been her Arbites friend; from what he had told her when she was a teen, he had screaming fits in the middle of the night as a result of directly witnessing one firsthand.

She returned to her tea, meditating on the recent events. She could only hope that the voidsoul recovered sufficiently from such a devastating event.

* * *

"Hafza, can you test the DNA sample I've extracted from the assassin?" Ippo entered the lab where she worked.

"Yes. Why do you inquire so?" she questioned.

"Let me explain something. When I made an alliance with the Snow family, Kevin Snow told me that he wanted to seal the deal with a marriage exchange. He chose to marry my first cousin once removed, and in exchange I would marry one of his relatives. The problem was that two was not exactly the best match; one was mentally unstable, while another was in the penal legions because she had committed a grave offence. A third relative had been written off as KIA.

He had determined that the best match for me came in the form of his younger sister. I searched for her for the last five years, but all women claiming to be her were impostors. But when I undressed our new crewmember and removed her helm she looked strikingly similar to a photo Kevin Snow gave me," he replied, handing over a vial of blood.

She used one of her mechadendrites to extract a bit of the red liquid, before placing it in a machine designed specifically to process DNA samples. The DNA profile of Marcella Snow already was on file, and she made comparison of the printout of the assassin's profile against it.

"It's a 99.9 percent match. The probability of the Culexus operative being Kevin Snow's sister is highly probable," Hafza replied.

"So it's a confirmation," Ippo sighed. He was mulling his next moves.

"Are we going to Epsilon Regalis?" the tech-priest asked.

"Perhaps," He shrugged.

The tech-priest turned to a pair of strange goggle-like contraption. It had been reverse-engineered from a null-aura suppressor found on a deceased Federation null operative on an abandoned ship. She had been looking for opportunities to test out her new invention and the Culexus assassin seemed like a good candidate.

"Can you summon Marcella Snow to my lab," Hafza's question caught Ippo off guard.

He nodded.

* * *

Marcella looked around at the clothing; there were so many choices! She tried various pieces of clothing. Some were too skimpy for her taste, like a minidress that had a plunging halterneck and a low back. Yet other were quite frilly and had too much detailing, like a pink dress with strawberries all over it and white puffed sleeves. And a few made her look like she was swimming in too much material.

When she put on a pastel pink turtleneck sweater, black leggings and a brown grox leather skirt, she found it met her modesty requirements, as well as being practical. She then found a pair of high-quality pale gray boots that fit her feet perfectly.

She turned to her reflection; there were several changes to her appearance that the Culexus temple had inflicted upon her. First was the Oculus Rubicon Focus augmentation in her left eye. It was a specialized apparatus that helped focus the destructive beams of the Animus Speculum. The second one were the implants on the side of her head that linked into the helm, suppressing her genetic gifts when the helm was turned off. Her hair had been shorn short in order to fit it inside that accursed thing.

Green glowing lines crawled up the right side of her face, with more branching down her arms and legs. Her skin was still its usual cocoa brown tone, and her hair had retained some of it color, though there were a few gray areas in the bangs and side locks.

She walked out of the wardrobe; she was about to head toward her new quarters when Ippo approached her. He led her toward the labs; she blushed when her eyes met his briefly.

"Hafza Fadia Al-Farsi, our tech-priest has a prototype null-supressor that she wants to test on you," he told her, "She believe that it can easily replace your helm. It's lighter and more practical."

"Really?" Marcella's face had an expression of surprise on her face.

"Yes. I've talked with her and she told me that she considers the Animus Speculum to be based on tech that is outdated and not exactly reliable," Ippo replied.

They walked into the labs side by side. Marcella could see a female tech-adept tinkering with a strange google apparatus. She assumed that the woman must be the tech-priest she was talking about.

"You must be the Culexus operative that we rescued," she nodded toward Marcella.

"Yes," she murmured.

"Now take this, put it on your face and plug it to the suppressor implants," she explained; the assassin merely did as instructed.

"Do you feel anything now Ippo,"Hafza asked Ippo.

"No. Before you gave her that when I was in her presence, I felt nauseous and dizzy. But now I can be around her without any ill-effect," the rogue trader replied.

"I want to test it with the psykers on our ship in order to prove it effectiveness over her old helm," she nodded.

Marcella looked around the room as the two conserved on about various details. The walls were painted a lively pumpkin orange. One wall held a bunch of cogitators, each constantly streaming status updates on various shipboard functions, while another had several workbenches pushed against it. In the back there were a few holomat servo-skulls stashed on the shelves.

"We are going to meet the rest of the crew in the dining room," Ippo's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned toward the two, and followed them down the winding hallways toward the dining room.

* * *

The dining room's décor was quite modest, even by Rogue Trader standards. It consisted of a large elliptical dining table, ten simply built chairs that Marcella had found to be quite sturdy, and a nearby cupboard that she saw held the plates and cutlery for the meals. The walls were painted a soft brown that emanated a welcoming ambience, and the two lumen globes that hung in the room had a warm yellow glow to it.

The food was piled up in the serving plates around the table. Marcella reached for a plate of roast quail and placed a few piece of meat on her plate. She then took some scoops of roasted sweet potatoes and a spoonful of gravy and added them to it.

As she began eating she could see the other crewmembers. One woman clearly was a member of the Navis Noblite, judging by the bandanna she wore to protect others from the third eye on her forehead. She was quite tall and awkward. She was chatting animatedly with a tanned man with a few scar on his face. He was quite muscular and had a hooked nose. His brunet hair was slicked and he wore a red handband.

"-So when I was on Balucha, there was a bumbling fool who tried to domesticate one of the native animals there; he got slashed to bits. Never had any bloody common sense, that one. I wouldn't even trust him with the command of my frakking regiment," Marcella judged the man to be from Catachan, judging by his accent.

"I recall one guy my father served under. He was a highborn. He tried to rape a civilan woman, and for his trouble he got bayoneted to death by the platoon he was commanding," she replied.

"My name's Syvas Brondell. I came from the 172nd Catachan Devils. Switched over to the Sons of Dispater because it paid better than being a Guardsman," he replied.

"I'm Renata, and the Astropath is Irri Kelash," the navigator gestured to the blindfolded woman next to her.

"Nice to meet you all," She nodded.

"For our next destination we're going to Epsilon Regalis," Ippo's voice boomed, catching the rest of the crew's attention.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **M42.013**

 **Cestus Majorus**

Henrik Grimmaldus sat at his new post, smug in his victory. He once was a mid-ranking adepta toiling aways in the back rooms of the Administrium; he had tried to rise up further in the hierarchy, but other rivals had halted his ascent as they feared his competency and his ideas. He had sold some of them out to the Arbites after he had discovered their misdeeds. One man had sold information in exchange for money to line his pockets, while another had encouraged rigged bidding in order to benefit his brother's booming construction business. A third individual had accepted bribes from the nobility for overlooking shipments of recreational drugs.

They had all ended up in the custody of the brutal enforcers. But however four years ago his career was not going where he desired it. The reason was that the planetary governor saw his rising family as a threat to their twenty-year-long rule, and he had made a writ that blocked the Grimmaldus family from rising any further. To add insult to injury, there were rumors that an Eldar Craftworld had been sighted in the vicinity of his homeworld, and it seems that they were preparing for war.

Henrik had resolved to make lemonade out of lemons. While eavesdropping on the conversations between the Commissariat, the Inquisition and the Adeptus Astartes, he had heard some mention about a Culexus assassin. He decided that he would use him/her as a pawn in his scheme to advance further. When he heard that a bunch of Dark Eldar was looking for one, he had passed this information to them.

The raid that had occurred had taken half of the world's population, and ended up wiping out the planetary governor's entire family. The commissars and inquisitors leading the defense had also suffered greatly, with over 4/5 of the staff there being taken.

He had assumed that the assassin had also been abducted and with this, the potential for victory over the xenos. This was his way of spitting upon the egostic fools that resided within the seat of power for their short-sighted ways.

He was now the head of the planetary Administrum network; The new planetary governor had reversed the writ blocking the Grimmauldus's rise to power, and issued one against several others.

Henrik stood up from the cushy office chair he was in and moved to the windows. He picked up a tabac cigar, lit it and puffed. His craggy features had contorted in a prideful smirk.

In the corner, a figure hid in the shadows. He prepped a needle gun and aimed it at his target and fired. The crystalline splinter was filled with a sedative; the orders that his master had given indicated that this man was to be taken alive.

As soon as it had hit Henrik in the neck, he collapsed. The shadowy figure moved out of the shadows to reveal the standard attire of the Vindicare temple. He picked up the unconsicious body of his objective and slung him over his shoulder.

* * *

Denton Briar frowned as he looked over the details of the Dark Eldar raid on Cestus Majorus. He had long suspected that someone had betrayed the information regarding the Culexus operative XXXIV-IX, Marcella Snow, to the Dark Eldar. This had a negative effect on both Biel-Tan and the Imperium forces. Without the Farseer to guide them, Biel-tan was unable to achieve their objective, while the Imperial forces gathering on the world had been greatly depleted.

The operative had been declared as MIA, with KIA a distinct possibility, based on his knowledge of the Dark Eldar's patterns. Without a crew to service the shipboard warp drive, the ship that had carried her to this location had it malfunction, causing a warp rift that had sucked it into the Immaterium two years after the raids.

The mission that the Officio Assassinorum had assigned her had been a colossal failure, thanks to the vile xenos's interference. When Briar had talked with one of the Eldar from Biel-Tan the guardian had confirmed that the xeno witch had been among these who had been taken in the raid.

When he had traced the events that had led up to this catastrophe he had discovered that his theory had been somewhat correct. There were talk that the new planetary comptroller of the Administrium had orchestrated the events as a way of getting revenge on the now-extinict Vecchius dynasty. When he had investigated further, he had found several clues that had made this train of thought a definite possibility.

First, the Grimmauldus family had been known on Cestus Majorus for their ambitions. They had ruthlessly backstabbed, lied and murdered their way up the ranks through the three centuries since they were established. They had orchestrated the downfall of four houses through a lengthy series of intrigue, sabotage and assassinations. The Vecchius had been their latest victims; the entire family of over forty-five members had been abducted by the Dark Eldar.

Secondly there were rumors that they weren't above collaborating with xenos in order to get what they wanted. When Briar had investigated the family records he found several records of transactions with the Kabals of the Black Heart and the Withered Hand. They had detailed the sale of several children from three competing dynasties. When these documents had been examined he had concluded that the aforementioned family had been collaborating with the factions for a long time.

He had hauled in several servants of the Grimmauldus family; when he had put them through intensive interrogation all spilled the beans. They told him that Henrik Grimmauldus had passed the intelligence to the Kabal of the Withered Hand in return for a few valuable things, including a large cache of gold filched from the mining world of Vaam Phusk, and a bundle of adamantium ingots from the Forge world Mordax Prime.

Dagon Lachirus had been instructed to capture the traitor alive, so Briar could deal with him personally. The fact that the man had committed treason against an operative of the Officio Assassinorum, even indirectly, still angered the Inquisitor personally.

Marcella Snow, like Dagon Lachirus, had been a victim of the selfish ambitions of other people. Even now, when Briar saw the Vindicare's reactions to the events, he had noticed his tremulous hands clenching as he recalled the source of his original trauma.

* * *

 _ **The Graceful Star**_

The living room had a lively ambience; the gray circular sofas around the coffee table held the crew of the Graceful Star, and they were laughing at a particularly funny anecdote told by one Syvas Brondell.

"When one of my army officers was drunk, one of my buddies decided to paint his face to look like one of the clowns in a nearby circus he'd seen performing nearby. The reaction was priceless when the next morning the officer woke up and he wondered why everybody was laughing at him. After he discovered why, he began chasing my friend down the aisles of the camp we were in," he regaled.

"I once drew on the face of my grandpa when he was completely drunk when I was seven. He had much the same reaction," Marcella replied in between giggles.

"I did the same with my uncle when I was twelve. He had drunk a full jug of liquor at that time," Ippo chuckled, before he took a sip of his amasec.

"I recall that when I was fourteen I met this really snooty girl at a ball. She had bragged about her upcoming marriage to a scion of the Malabar dynasty. She was surely convinced that this marriage would happen.

When she came to me to talk about her upcoming marriage, I told her that it would happen, but not to the one she expected. I prophesized that a great betrayal would befall her father, and that one brother had desires hidden in his heart that would lead the family to damnation, while the second and third had only salvation in their mind.

It came true on the same day I was first spotted by the Black Ships. Her youngest brother had been corrupted by the Architect of Fate and had backstabbed his father in an attempt to inherit the position of the master of their dynasty. Her eldest brother was able to wrest control away from him, before he had called in the Inquisition to aid in killing the traitorous fool. He then signed the marriage contract that would promise her to the new Planetary governor of Kuluth. She objected to it as she told them that her betrothal to her rogue trader was still standing, but her brother had told her that the governor had made orders to have it dissolved in preparation for her new marriage.

The girl had cried and fought all the way down the marriage aisle, from what I heard from the rumors surrounding the aforementioned couple. She never recovered from the event and committed suicide two years after the birth of her son," Irri Kelash reminisced as she sipped from her cup of tea.

"Wow. That prediction that you made must've done a number on her mind," Renata's eyes widened in amazement.

"I've heard stories about psykers predicting other people's fate, but that story was just tragic. My mother warned my siblings and me against going to fortune tellers as she told us that to have your life pre-determined by a prophecy could potentially lead to damnation," Marcella chimed in.

"I recall that story. Was the girl you referring to Ivanna Milosevicha? I've heard of her. She was once a prideful bitch, always bragging about her future marriage to Valerius Titovich Malabar," Ippo asked Irri.

"Yes," the astropath nodded.

"Then the stress of finding out that your prophecy had come true must've broken her mentally and spiritually," he noted.

"I recalled one of my buddies went to a diviner when I was ten. Whatever he heard from the man ended up giving him a couple of mutations. He ended up getting sacrificed by a bunch of Astral Knives kids when he turned twenty-one," Renata added.

"All I know is that when one of my buddies was pressed into the Inquisition he got a prophecy. It drove him insane," Syvas replied.

* * *

Henrik groggily woke up; he tried to move his arms and legs, but soon discovered they were strapped down. He looked around the room he was. It was painted a dour slate gray, and in the corner there were several tools for interrogation. He also saw a few of his family members; they were also strapped down in similar devices next to him.

"Who would dare put us in such things!?,"His eldest daughter, a skinny woman with surgically altered features shrieked as she struggled against her restraints.

"All I know is that we're in hot water with somebody," his uncle replied, "Who knows? Could be the Inquisition."

All the other occupants shuddered. They had nursed a healthy fear of the Holy Ordos and with good reason. The powers of the Inquisition enabled them to do anything to combat the myriad threats inside and outside the Imperium, and it was for this reason why the Grimmaldus family feared them.

Henrik had begun fidgeting, trying to figure out a way to break out of the restraints. He had partially succeeded when a powerful shock hit his body. He screamed in pain, giving up his attempts. The restraints were re-tightened. He could see a tall man with slicked back hair standing in front of him; he bore the Inquisitoral rosette.

"I am Denton Briar of the Ordos Sicarious. I was called here in the aftermath of the raid on Cestus Majorus because I was informed that one of the operatives of the Officio Assassinorum went missing in the midst of it.

When I investigated the events leading up to this raid, it was when I discovered your role. You sold confidential information to a known enemy of the Imperium and millions suffered greatly because of your traitorous actions, Henrik Grimmaldus," The Inquisitor approached him, picking up a pair of tools designed for linguectomy. He inserted one designed to prop Henrik's jaw open. He then inserted a set of special shears that begun cutting at his tongue. The adepta struggled against his restraints, but it was futile as the shear had completed it last stroke before being removed from his bleeding mouth. A pair of forceps then not so delicately removed the mutilated organ, and placed it on a tray held by a servitor.

"Lelith Manon, I've discovered that your daughter is a psyker. You held her back from the last Black Ship three years ago, from what I've discovered in your diary. Your ambitions for her was to have her marry Trimaldus Fulgrim, if I correctly recall. That wedding you had planned won't occur, as my retinue is taking her in for delivery to Terra," The Inquisitor then addressed Henrik's daughter, "Hiding a wyrd is an offence punishable by death."

He raised a bolter pistol and shot her in the head. She died instantly as Henrik and his uncle looked on with horror.

"Persax Windsagum, I found out about your little network. You had been selling top-secret information from the archives to others for a long time, and you also accepted bribes from various people to overlook illict practices. The fact that you also aided Henrik in his scheme to betray the Imperium to satiate the family's ambitions says much about how little you care for the people of Cestus Majorus," Briar then turned to his uncle.

Henrik watched in horror as his uncle also underwent the same procedure that he had earlier. Then afterward as two electroshock machines moved up to the two men, both screamed as they were electrocuted until they died.

* * *

 _The Graceful Star_ dropped out of the Warp into the Stromark system; The ship had decided to dip there for some refuelling and to look around. The crew had heard dim whisperings of a civil war that had been ended with brute force by the Flesh Tearers and the Angel Encarmines.

Marcella Snow looked out of the windows at the world of Stromark Prime. It was colored a sickly greenish color, a direct result of the ample tonnes of sewage spilled into the seas of this particular world. The spires weren't any better; many of them were in ruins and repairs on them were just beginning.

She turned her head toward Stromark Secundus, the moon. It had a big crater where the headquarters of the High Command used to be. She had heard that the Angel Encarmine had sent five Furiso dreadnoughts into it. The murderous machines then proceeded to tear the High Command rebels there to bits, before blowing it up. What little that was left of the hierarchy there had voluntarily surrendered, as they didn't want to weather any more wrath from the Emperor's angels of death.

She turned to Ippo and the rest of the crew.

"I've heard about the civil war there, Ippo. It seems that the planetary heads let their egos get the better of them," She replied.

"I recall that one of my rivals was a big supporter of one of the factions there. It landed him in hot water with the Inquisition," the rogue trader replied.

"Not to mention the punitive penalties levied against the nobility of both worlds," Hafza chimed in as her mechadendrites twitched, "Nearly two-thirds of them were sentenced to Servitude Impertituis for their roles in the destructions of many of the manfactorums. They encouraged this civil war out of their selfish ambition and sheer pride."

"All I know about the damned civil war was that it caused the downfall of a great deal of families who originally hailed from there. I recalled that one family who had fled Stromark because of a petty rivalry that became an ongoing feud was exiled to the underhive after this turn of events," Irri added.

The group entered the shuttle that would bring them to the surface of Stromark Prime. Marcella was planning to look for a few more piece of clothing for herself, while Irri admitted to the rest of the group that she wanted to buy a few more jewelry to add to the few pieces that she had already had in her adornment chest.

Ippo was seriously considering buying an engagement ring to present to Marcella once the betrothal contract was written and sealed by both parties. Although he had an idea of what she liked once he had looked through her wardrobe, he would need some advice from an experienced jewelsmith.

Her clothing consisted of three crop-tops, three skinny pants, six leggings and two turtleneck sweaters in various shades of olive green, crimson red, black and maroon. She had been gifted with a custom-made gray greatcoat that Ippo had picked up while visiting an ice world in order to recruit more crewmembers.

He had noticed her first and only willing body modification; a pierced belly button. Marcella had chosen to get it in order to "rub it in the Imperium's face that she was her own person," as she had said earlier.

* * *

Briar sat in his office; he sighed for the umpteenth time as he looked over the incident reports involving Marcella Snow. There were several pages detailing several failed escape attempts and a single one that was somewhat successful. He had recalled that she had successfully got on a Chartist vessel once, but both her instructor, Dilliard Whitebelt and he had followed her onto it. They silently followed the subject as she moved through the ship.

When Snow found that particular cache of xeno artifacts, they had briefly debated on the course of action before they decided to follow her into the captain's quarters. After she had begun pulling out papers filled with incriminating evidence and reading them; it was when he had fired his needler pistol at her, and she collapsed into Whitebelt's arms, sound asleep as an result of the sedative that he had dosed it with.

After the papers had been dealt with, that was when Briar had decided to strip the captain of the Chartist vessel of his post; he had been executed in front of the onlooking crowds of the vessel. He had passed the intelligence of the ring that Snow had found through astropathic channels to the Ordos Xenos.

She had been returned to the Fortress of the Soulless, and Briar had carefully monitored her in order to prevent any more escape attempts. The dossier on her had specifications for a special type of cell that had been designed for rebellious agents like her with a lengthy history of escape attempts. After her graduation mission she would have been mind-wiped of any traces of her previous life on Epsilon Regalis.

It had been all for nothing, as the traitor Henrik Grimmaldus had lured the Dark Eldar with the intention to defeat his rivals for once and all. It had potentially ruined any future plans that the Officio Assassinorum had made for Snow, and it was clear that the organization would punish the Grimmaldus family as a whole for their actions.

Briar had an inkling that it would likely involve the bloody massacre of the traitorous clan by an Eversor and it would be approved by the High Lords of Terra after a lengthy debate. He anticipated watching the carnage play out on the vid-feeds.

* * *

Irri Kelash looked over the jewelry display; she had been looking for a few more pair of earrings to add to her collection of over twenty pairs. Back home on Malfi she had access to over 1,000 pairs, but when she was taken onto the Black ship, she wound up having her finery stripped, and she was given rough-spun robes to wear during the journey there. She hated the sedative in the food, the constant crowds of despairing psykers she was forced to sit or stand alongside and the disruptive strobe lights or noise machines that kept her awake all day and night.

The astropath had once seen one young girl using incantations to try and escape the Black Ships. It had killed eight nearby psykers before the staff had subdued the poor thing. When she was finally returned to the hold in the black ship, Irri had noticed that the girl had been stripped of her tongue and teeth. She had vowed never to do the same thing that the aforementioned subject had attempted.

"What do you think of these," she gestured to a pair of jade-studded chandelier earrings that she had cast her eyes on.

"I'm not fond of that personally," Marcella Snow, the Culexus assassin and the newest addition to the crew, replied. She leaned back against a pillar.

"I think it looks good on you, Irri," Renata replied. She picked it up and showed it to the proprietor, a middle- woman who seemed absolutely bored.

"These pair of earrings are worth 200 thrones," she said, and Irri counted out the exact amount of coins and handed it over to her.

The group moved down the aisles; inspecting the wares. Marcella Snow had purchased a set of finely wrought carbon fiber throwing knives from a weapons dealer, while Renata had bought three lengths of fabric in red, brown and a pastel green, with the intention to turn them in scarves to cover her third eye.

They moved to the courtyard of the bustling marketplace; looking around the place, they could see various people in their day-to-day activities. One elderly woman was chastising her young grandchild for apparently hitting another child, while two men begun arguing about current political issues. An elderly man was babbling something about a broken vessel with a black sun on it, while a drunken young woman was stripping off her clothes. She dashed through the crowd while nude, while the onlookers stared at her.

"That lady is positively crazy," Renata remarked as she watched the unfolding scene.

"I recall that the Arbites on my world often punished people like them by flogging," Marcella added.

"She seem to enjoy doing it as often as possible," Irri replied, "I've sensed her thoughts. She has done it ever she was sixteen."

The local arbites soon rounded her up, along with several pick-pockets and several people raving on pedestals about their beliefs that the people must rise up and secure their freedom. They were promptly put in a Rhino carrier and it then moved away from the aforementioned courtyard.

They sat on the benches next to a nearby restaurant; Ippo had instructed his crew to meet him at this particular place.

* * *

Farnoese's Jewelers was a fairly small building, nested between two hab-blocks. It was painted a dazzling hot pink, with several gem-shaped neon lights decorating the storefront. The windows displayed various wares, including a pair of morganite earrings and a gold bracelet with three emeralds set into it.

Ippo looked over the wares; he had seen some good pieces, but they didn't exactly match Marcella's tastes. She wasn't fond of any attention, and often faded in the background. Her social skills were somewhat lacking as she had been confined to a room in her house when she was a child.

He entered the shop; looking over the loose gemstones currently on display. A few pieces caught his eye; a pale blue sapphire in a round cut, a princess cut diamond and a pear-cut garnet.

Arcturus Farnoese, the proprieter of this small shop was a fairly spindly man with beady eyes the color of stale water. His nose seemed to have been broken at some point and holstered in his belt was various jewel-making implements.

"Are you by any chance interested in my wares?" He asked as he wiped down a counter.

"Yes, these three gemstones," Ippo replied, "for an engagement ring."

"Your girl is lucky to have you," Farnoese nodded, "The diamond was mined on Golgotha X a while ago. The clarity and cut is good. It is around 6 millimetres and is priced 50,000 thrones."

Ippo inspected the diamond that the man showed him. It was beautiful, but he felt that the diamond was a bit expensive.

"Show me the sapphire," he requested.

"Very well. This sapphire comes from a lab on the asteroid station of Vladhocha-2501. It is 12 millimeters around, and it cost 10,000 thrones," the jewelsmith replied.

Ippo looked over the sapphire; it seemed to be a little big for Marcella's finger. He gestured to the garnet.

"The garnet is also lab-grown there. It is 8 millimeters and originally cost 12,000 thrones. There is a 10% discount on all garnet jewelry this month," he replied.

Ippo inspected the aforementioned jewel. It was a bargain at only 1,200 thrones, and when he looked it over, he was instantly reminded of the colors she often wore.

"I want to buy this one," he replied as he counted out the correct number of thrones. Farnoese took the coins before he handed over the box the garnet Ippo had purchased was in.

"Thanks for the service," the Rogue trader waved to the jewelsmith as he left the shop.

* * *

Gigi's was a pretty popular bar among the locals. It had been a fixture of the local scene ever since it was established over one hundred and thirty years ago. It had its share of colorful stories, like the time a Moritat reaper had snuck up and stabbed a well-known heretic in front of this building, all in broad daylight and the time a Vindicare assassin had shot the corrupt Ecclesiarchy cardinal Xanthius Borreas while he was in this particular bar. He had then killed everybody in the bar in order to keep people from telling others what they had seen.

It had been passed down through five generations of owners, all hailing from the exact same family. The fact that the aforementioned bar had lasted this long was a sheer testimony to the dedication of the Hisolover family, who first established it after they had left Kuluth for better pastures. It was currently in the southern-facing corner of the marketplace that Marcella, Renata and Irri had visited.

The interior was painted a burgundy color, with a bar in the right side of the establishment, while the back room held several large cubicles that could easily seat eight to twelve people. The rest of the floor was filled with sixty tables, each one ringed by six chairs each.

The crew of the Graceful Star was currently in the public area; they had been assigned a table near the left wall. The table was quite sturdy and the chairs as well, as it could support the weight of Hafza's mechadendrites.

Everybody was sitting at this table. Marcella, Renata and Syvas had ordered a lager each, while Irri had ordered a glass of wine, and Ippo a snifter of mid-priced amasec. They were waiting for their drinks to arrive.

"Sheesh, can politics get any better than this?" Marcella sarcastically remarked as she overheard a conversation discussing the latest of the nobles's backstabbing antics.

"I was never fond of politics. It's a profession full of egoistic jackasses preening and trying to prove they're better than the competition," Ippo replied.

"Not to mention the constant backstabbing and lying," Irri Kelash sighed, "I have to admit that the soul-binding gave me one good thing; I would be free of any of the politicking that my family often participated in."

"I've heard some rumors that the governor of Vaam Phusk has let the law become lax," Renata chimed in. "Something about enabling freedom of choice for his subjects."

"A great move," Marcella rolled her eyes before she made another sarcastic remark, "for attracting Inquisitional attention. Whatever they will have planned for him will be fun."

"Looks like the governor will be in deep doo-doo," Syvas replied, "I recall one moment where my regiment was called up to force the government there in compliance. We were able to ambush the governor, seize him and deliver him to the Inquisition for the Emperor's justice."

"Not to mention the assassination attempts that the High Lords of Terra will authorize for the frakking jackass," Marcella snarled, "All I know is that if the person in question has pissed the Senatorum Imperalis off, their days are numbered."

"I recall that one Fabricator General of my homeworld tried to secede; he was killed by an Imperial assassin disguised as one of his followers," Hafza noted as she put her hands on her chin.

"It was the same exact fate that that frakking dicktard Annesh met, Hafza. His story was put in the Schola books for a reason. Stroking your ego and announcing secession plans for an important world will anger them and with good reason. They don't want the Imperium to fragment in a million pieces," Marcella sighed before she blew a raspberry.

"I recall that one of the governors of my homeworld had the same idea. He was shot during the procession that was inaugurating him as a king of free Malfi," Irri replied.

"Hear ye! Hear ye all! It is time to rise against the oppressive masters. The slaves are suffering, the workers are overworked, and the nobility grows even more decadent. Cast off your chains, Proletariats, and join the revolution!" a man was speaking into a microphone on a stage.

"Looks like it's a great time to test out these throwing knives I bought," Marcella stood up. The group watched in horror as she stood up, while plucking one out of a holster. She held it by the blade, aimed it at the man and threw it. The knife embedded in his head, and everyone panicked as they had just seen a killing in the bar.

She walked up to the man's corpse and peeled back the shirt in an attempt to search for any marking related to criminal or revolutionary groups. There was one, on the back of the cadaver was the symbol of a banned group called the Stromark Liberation Front. It was a stylized red fist clutching a hammer and encircled by nine stars.

Marcella then searched the man's pockets, and found his name; it was Mik'eel Bandhan. From what she could recall he was a minor heretic, and that the Arbites had him on his wanted list.

"Seems that he was wanted by the Arbites for certain criminal activites. Good riddance," she noted before she returned to the table. The people stared at her before they slowly returned to their normal activites with a corpse in their midst.

* * *

Hours later, the Arbites found themselves investigating the murder scene; what little they could find on the scene was that the man had been killed during one of his revolutionary speeches. He was a known recidivist, and the fact that someone had killed him came as a huge relief to the force. But when they had delved deeper in the crime scene, they had discovered that the witnesses at Gigi's had refused to speak of the incident. The memory of the Vindicare killing his objective and the patrons there had been too fresh for them.

Even as the knife-throwing incident passed into legend, there were many versions that passed between the local populace. Some said that the person who did it was a Moritat reaper hired by a rival, and others said that it was an assassin hired by his ex-lover. A third version said that the planetary governor had ordered the killing, while a fourth said that Mik'eel had offended a noble family and he had been offed as a result.

Nothing could be further than the truth, as the closed circuit video depicting the incident had vanished as soon as it had been recorded.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **M42.014**

 **On the** _ **Unwavering Resolver**_

The quiet of Briar's quarters was interrupted by the blaring of the voxcaster. He groggily woke from his slumber.

"There is something that you need to see," the monotone voice of his Vanus operative Klara Santhius came over it.

"Alright, I'm coming," he replied. The Inquisitor got dressed in his synthskin suit, and put on a black trenchcoat before he left his bedroom.

As he walked down the hallways, he mused on his most recent achievements. First was the bloody massacre of the traitorous Grimmaldus family. The High Lords had approved the kill-order for the bloody fools after hearing of their ties with the Dark Eldar. The event had played out as usual; a drop-pod in the front yard of the family estate, followed by terror and mayhem as the Eversor operative CLXXI-XII had cut down the guards at the front door. He proceeded to make the building an abattoir of severed limbs, decapitated heads and corpses everywhere, before he was recovered and returned to his cryostasis tank.

The second event was the assassination of the traitorous Fabricator General of Mordax Prime; he had attempted to secede so his disciples had the freedom to experiment with what the rest of the Adeptus Mechanicus had completely forbidden; innovation. His Skitarii legiones was fanatically loyal to him and to forcibly remove him would cause numerous rebellions, so Dagon Lachirus was deployed. It was a resounding success, as Dagon had laid in wait for eight days before he had shot the fool in the head during an inauguration speech. It had the desired effect of dispersing the movement that this heretek had worked so hard to establish.

The third event was the termination of the Chaos sorcerer Mithrel Khaol. He had stolen several important artifacts, and was planning to use one of them to summon a powerful daemon called the Shifting Tongue. Dillard Whitebelt had been inserted onto the ship through the false pretense of a meteor shower, and he slowly made it to the bridge, killing the heretic's followers as he moved through the ship. He then killed Khaol with a couple of psyk-out grenades and a precise Animus Speculum blast.

However, he still had so much to do. There were traitors and heretics that had yet to be rooted out and Briar was determined to do it, even if it cost his life. He wondered what was so urgent that Santhius would contact him over the voxcaster.

* * *

 **Epsilon Regalis**

Marcella Snow looked up at her childhood home; as soon as the Graceful Star had come out of the Immaterium into the orbit of her homeworld, she had nursed feelings of giddy anticipation. From the little history that she had recalled on the building that was her childhood home, it once had been owned by a minor family, the name long forgotten by the people of Epsilon Regalis. No one knew what happened to the family, only that they had angered the previous royal family at some point and was wiped out.

She had found traces of the building's previous history during her exploration of the house while she was a child. From what she had recalled, there used to be statues depicting a lion on several plinths through the building. They had been depicted in the old drawings stashed in the attic. When Mother and Father moved into this estate the first renovations they had done was to demolish most of them, while a couple of them situated in alcoves in the buildings had the statues melted down, and the plinths turned into altars dedicated to the God-Emperor of Mankind.

They then stripped the building of much of its gilded baroque decorations, before they had rebuilt it in a simpler and more functional manner that they had called New Mission Revival. Marcella, in her opinion had preferred the newer décor; from what little she had recalled, the unnamed family wasn't afraid to show off their wealth in every imaginable way, from the ornamentations, to the wild parties that they had held every week.

She had theorized that this shameless flashing of wealth had drawn the royal family's ire, and it was unknown how the family had met an ignominious end. She had her suspicions that it had involved some elaborate intrigues of some kind.

"Finally. Home, sweet home," the young woman sighed.

"Was that where you were born?" Irri Kelash asked.

"Yes. Spent most of my childhood in that house," she replied.

The group of six approached the front of the building. Marcella pushed aside the door, before she let the others in.

"MOTHER!" she ran toward a stern-looking woman clad in the attire of a high-ranking Arbites. The woman nearly stumbled before she turned to see what had caused that reaction.

Myrcella Tyrell was shocked to see her daughter. Had it been fourteen years since she had last seen her little social experiment of a daughter? She also saw the new companions that the girl had brought along. There was a Catachan devil, a Tallarnese tech-priest, an astropath, a navigator who was obviously voidborn, and a rogue trader.

Marcella seemed to be friends with them as she seemed to be at ease with these people. She could remember that when her daughter was a child she couldn't make any friends because her presence often cause pain and torment in many people. Her time under the Arbites was not much better; despite her talents in applying Imperial laws, many of her fellow enforcers feared the girl. The only two that had seen her for her talents were Chatham and Taremann, although the latter had reluctantly given up the girl to Briar and Foules' care.

"This is Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini, but we call him Ippo. He's the rogue trader who rescued me. The tech-priest is Hafza Fadia Al-Farsi. The mercenary is Syvas Brondell, he came from the 172nd Catachan Devils. The Navigator is Renata; she was orphaned at birth and grew up on a giant-ass merchant vessel. The astropath is Irri Kelash. She is from Malfi," the introductions were made, as her daughter had gestured to each individual in turn.

"Follow me," Myrcella gestured as she led the group to the main living room. The group followed.

* * *

Briar stood at the desk of his office. Klara Santhius, a skinny woman of around three decades in ages stood impassively as she turned her emotionless face toward her master.

"When I was collecting intelligence for potential assassination missions I stumbled across an interesting find. A infocyte stationed on Stromark Prime sent me a closed-circuit vid involving an incident in a bar. Apparently, he was monitoring a potential threat to the world's security," she gestured to the holomat servitor.

The mindless cyborg begun projecting information. Briar crossed his arm as he begun reading the streaming info.

 _ **Name:**_ _Mik'eel Bandhan_

 _ **Gender:**_ _Male_ _ **Birthdate:**_ _M_ _ **Birthplace:**_ _Estebanos Hive, Stromark Secundus_

 _ **Known Affiliations:**_ _Stromark Liberation Front, Decius Amarillo, the Hisollen Clan, Balucha Revolutionary League, and the Sethlock Clan._

 _ **Info:**_ _A vile rebel well known for attempting to incite rebellions. Tried on many occasions to encourage revolts, but these were successfully supressed by Arbites. In recent years, he seems to have begun gathering followers at an alarming rate._

 _Monitoring on subject begun in M. The information gathered indicate that a Vindicare may be the best option if his revolt proves successful. However, he was reported deceased as of M, apparently, because of a murder in the drinking establishment known as Gigi's._

"Now watch the video that was bundled with this heretic report," she instructed.

The holographic information display changed to vid-mode; Briar watched the event of the vid. The heretic was spewing vile revolutionary sentiments; he had paused, before he was about to begun another wave of anti-Imperium catechism. An all too familiar female stood up from the table that she was seated with five others and stepped toward the heretic. She took out a throwing knife and threw it at the traitor; he dropped dead the moment it had hit him in the forehead. Many patrons in the bar panicked as they had just seen a murder in the bar, with a few individuals fleeing the bar outright. She then searched the man, exposing the tattoo that the man had been known to possess. She stood up, muttered something before she returned to her seat. The rest of the patrons stared at her before returning to their business with the deceased victim's cadaver on the stage.

He had instantly recognized her as Marcella Snow. However, the last time he had seen her, she had her hair cut in a simple fringed pixie cut to fit her head in the Animus Speculum. But in this vid, she seemed to have grown out her hair to her original shoulder-length, and styled it in the same way that she had at thirteen.

The outfit she was wearing consisted of a maroon zipped stretchy crop top, skinny pants of the same color with decorative lacing over olive green panels on the sides. On her feet were gray riding boots. He had noted the absence of the Animus Speculum; it had been replaced by something that he had seen on Federation null operatives before. It was a pair of suppressive goggles designed to suppress the disturbing auras of their subjects. She had worn a brown grox leather holster belt that held several throwing knifes over the pants.

"I believe that it is Operative XXXIV-IX. She is definitely alive and well, as confirmed by this vid you managed to find," he replied.

"What is the plan now?" Santhius asked.

"Investigation of her whereabouts and a recovery mission once she has been located," Briar replied.

As he turned his thoughts toward the next steps, he had figured that she had made the decision to flee the ship. It was a smart move considering the circumstances that she had found herself in. Many assassins had made the decision to abort their original missions in such dire circumstances, as they knew that if they were to be captured by the vile xenos they would likely suffer endless torture in the Dark City.

Dagon Lachirus had made one such decision as a young operative freshly out of training; when he was assigned a mission on the Hive world of Melo-Xanthius, the Kabal of the Forked Tongue had raided it. He had turned his focus toward the Dark Eldar, using his Exitus Rifle to kill the archon, succubi, haemonculi and the lhamaeans attacking the world in rapid succession. The raid soon fell apart because of his timely intervention, and the PDF could repel the force, but at an enormous price. One-third of the world's populace had already been abducted, including his objective, a corrupt Ecclesiarchy deacon who was raising illicit armies of Militia Fraternis.

When he had returned to the Officio Assassinorum waypoint he had explained what had happened. The fact that the xenos had forced his hand had not been lost upon the masters of the Vindicare temple, although they were not entirely happy with his failure to kill his target.

* * *

Ippo looked at the pictures hanging in the room. A few had made him chuckle, including one picture of a younger Marcella scowling at the camera while dressed up in an obviously uncomfortable child's formal dress. Others were much older, but just as awkward, like the one of a man tripping down the stairs of the local Ecclesiarchy shrine while his brothers looked on. From what Marcella had told him, the unfortunate person was a great-great-uncle who was a Ministorum cleric. He was well-known for his clumsiness and his eccentric habit of obsessively wearing a hat until it fell apart at the seams.

A photo of a beautiful woman hung next to the hilarious picture. She had her dark hair in a cascade of finely curled ringlets; a pair of pink flowers was placed carefully on the left side of her head. She seemed quite sad, he mused as he gazed at her visage.

"That was my great-aunt Kynassa Snow. She wound up as one of many victims of an Eversor attack at her wedding. Her head was ripped from her body right at the altar," Marcella answered grimly.

The mention of the dreaded temple never ceased to horrify him. He recalled that one time his father had recovered what he thought was an escape pod. But when the crew in the cargo bay had opened it they had unwittingly unleashed one of the temple's infamous killers on themselves. The assassin had gone on to kill over one half of his crew before he exploded in a gory mess. When his father had seen the carnage, he had sworn never to anger the Imperium lest he find himself facing one of these monstrosities again.

Other rogue traders weren't as lucky. Recently, one dynasty had tried to profit off forbidden artifacts; when the Inquisition had found out, an Eversor had been deployed on their flagship. He proceeded to massacre the entire family, including their servants. The event had clearly sent the rogue trader dynasties a strong message; comply with Imperium law or we'll bring the fullest extent of Imperial justice upon all of you.

Most did, but a few continued to flout the rules; They had met equally gruesome ends. One dynasty had been killed because of sabotaged life support machinery on their flagship, while a second had been killed by an Callidus assassin posing as his advisor. A third one, an unsanctioned psyker, was killed by a Culexus operative after he had evaded previous attempts to assassinate him through foreboding visions he received in his sleep. Even now, Ippo greatly feared what the Officio Assassinorum would have in store for him if he did similar things.

"When I was on that ship the Dark Eldar attacked, it was approaching Cestus Majorus. I believe that the world, as well as an Eldar craftworld nearby were both plundered," Marcella murmured softly, "I've had nightmares of the events ever since."

"I've seen one raid first-hand, Marcella. It was on Malabar IX. They swooped upon us and took nearly two-thirds of my regiment, including the commissar and his staff. I was one of these who were lucky enough to hide from them for the duration of the raid," Syvas Brondell replied.

"I've seen a raid on the _St. Peregrine_ , once. Took the entire command staff, as well at three-quarters of the populace," Renata answered.

"One of my colleagues in the Mechanicum was taken by a Dark Eldar raid force ten years ago. I never saw him again," Hafza added.

"One of my friends witnessed a raid firsthand a long time ago and he still has screaming fits in the middle of the night because of the trauma he witnessed," Irri Kelash nodded.

"I recall that when I was a young woman on Gehenna Prime, a raiding force swooped upon the world. They took the entire nobility, but left the rest of us alone," Myrcella Tyrell added, crossing her arms, "I still find the possibility of a Dark Eldar raid too terrifying to even think about it."

Ippo wrapped an arm around Marcella, causing her to blush a nice shade of tomato red. This scene wasn't lost upon the rest of the occupants, and they teased and needled the rogue trader about it all afternoon.

* * *

 **Unnamed World**

Father Theophilus Fulgrim stood on the pedestal; thousands of Fraternis Militia stood before him; He had sent six years building up this army, and he had levied another six million. His ambition was to bring the Ecclesiarchy back to its zenith of power during Goge Vandire's reign; he had secretly planned this for the last eleven years, ever since he had joined the Temple Tendency.

"The priesthood has grown complacent! They believe that Thor is their hero, but Vandire is worth more! Let us march in his name, and tear down the fools that govern the false priesthood, and return the Ecclesiarchy to its glory!" His speech roused the crowd.

As he launched another anti-Ecclesiarchy tirade, he didn't notice the scope of a certain model of rifle aimed directly at his head three kilometers away. The female assassin wielding it pulled the trigger; the shieldbreaker round weaved it way through lines, openings and buildings before penetrating Theophilus's head. He dropped dead as the crowd watched in shock and horror.

She climbed down the building she had chosen as her sniping ledge, before she ran toward the shuttle hidden nearby in an alleyway. Her thoughts turned to her father; he was currently laying in wait for the daemonically possessed scion of the Rutherford Family. The young man had been an unsanctioned psyker who gifts had just came in. He didn't have the strength of will to fight off the Keeper of Secrets that took control of his body. Briar had personally assigned Dagon that mission, while Julores Ronnherig had been given this mission to eliminate this renegade cardinal.

She turned to her Exitus sniper rifle, cleaning it; During the four days that she had laid in wait, she had heard rumors about things regarding her target that she had found disturbing. It had something to do with an alleged sexual preference for young boys around the age of 7 to 11. When Julores had voxed her father about the rumors, he had explained that this type of preference often showed up frequently in the cults of the Prince of Pleasure. During his career, he had encountered a few priests with this predisposition; both Eisenhorn and Briar had ordered that these deviants be eliminated as quickly as possible.

The thought of these sickos molesting children made Julores ill, even after years serving alongside her father in Briar's retinue. The fact that they looked up to these priests for guidance, and yet the perverts chose to violate it by raping their victims reminded her too much of a scandal that had surfaced on the world of her birth years after Dagon had took her with him. It involved a ring of deacons and cardinals hand-picking sex slaves from the local Progena populace and repeatedly abusing them over an unspecified number of years. When this event was uncovered by an inquisitor it sent shockwaves through the populace and a set of brutal raids by Adeptus Sororitas were initiated to purge this deviancy.

"Briar, I have completed my objective. The target has been neutralized," she spoke into the microbead of her spy mask. It had been optimized to her DNA, as well as her rifle and pistol. Around her thighs were several holstered throwing knives, to compensate in case both guns ran out of ammunition.

"Good. We're waiting for the confirmation of the next mission," the Inquisitor replied over the link.

"I've heard that Theophilus Fulgrim was a pedophile. Can you please do an investigation to confirm these rumors?" she asked, "I've talked with Father and we both overheard them, Briar."

"If the info being passed around proves to be accurate, I may need to investigate further to see if there are other priests with _similar_ deviant tastes," Briar's voice let out a sigh, before he replied, "Often the presence of pedophilia in an Ecclesiarchy district is a sign of Slaaneshi corruption there. Over the years I've encountered cults like them and there were often people who often enjoyed indulging in sexual activity with children there."

"Such disgusting perverts deserve to be purged," she agreed.

"My objective has been terminated, Briar. Exiting immediately," her father's monotone voice chimed into the conversation. He was always abrupt and emotionless, only replying when it was needed. She could still recall when she was a child, he often responded to her questions and demands with the briefest possible responses. Even then there were questions that he absolutely dreaded, and with good reason. The one about the metaphorical birds and the bees was one such thing, and it was somewhat awkward for him to explain to Julores when she was six.

Cue the snickering from the rest of Briar's retinue much to Dagon's chagrin. Even years later he was still embarrassed by the memory, although the hypno-doctrination had suppressed much of his emotions. Looking back upon the moment she had also found it hilarious that a killer trained from childhood onwards would find such things to be awkward.

She had to suppress a rather crude snicker at the thought; it would not do well to give herself away.

* * *

The office of Kevin Snow was tastefully decorated; The bottom half of the room had been panelled with ebony wood panelling, while the walls were covered in a sage green damask wallpaper. There was a small window behind the desk; it had blackout roman blinds covered in a rich brown silk.

The industrial pendant lumen fixture was flinched from an abandoned manfactorum that hadn't been in service for the last forty years, while Marcella could see that the desk there had been moved from Father's office. The chair was an old fixture that had been brought down from the attic; It hadn't been used for the last twenty years. Kevin had reupholstered it in a grox leather the same color as the wood panelling.

Ippo and Marcella were seated in neo-classical black-painted chairs with minimal decorations. As the Culexus operative felt his hands brush hers, she blushed a faint shade of pink.

"Let's begin the marriage contract discussion," her brother entered, behind her was a buxom young woman with carefully arranged raven hair in a curled bob and a yellow cocktail dress. She had blue eyes that glittered with mischief and happiness. On her left hand was a huge princess-cut diamond ring, a priceless heirloom that had been passed down to her from her grandma.

"Let's talk later, Hon," she told Kevin. Marcella had assumed that this woman was her brother's wife.

"Can you please remove the googles," he asked. She complied, and the disturbing presence Marcella had begun to take effect; both men began to feel dizzy and nauseous.

"It really is her," he nodded toward her, "Ever since Marcella was a baby she had this kind of presence. She nearly killed our elder brother when she was just a newborn. He was smart enough to flee the scene. Our grandpa tried to kill her a few times."

When she had replaced her suppressive goggles, the men then turned to the papers; they had already been written up. Marcella picked up her copy; reading it she could see that it was a marriage contract. She blushed even harder at the thought of spending the rest of her life with Ippo. The details stipulated that the engagement was to last a full year, with the wedding occurring around the first or second quarter of the following year.

"What do you think, Marcella?" Ippo asked her. She nodded, still speechless over the relevation that she was to be married. He took it as a yes, before he signed his name on the contract. Marcella then did so, signifying her consent to this union.

* * *

Irri Kelash wandered around the Snow estate; The décor in this house was not particularly fancy, with simple wooden trimming and an absence of gilded or gold elements. Her house had been full of them, and much bigger, with well over 600 rooms. She could recall that it had a 62,000 square feet ballroom, eight entertaining parlors, four massive dining rooms, and a basement swimming pool that was thirty feet wide and eighty-five feet long. It was forty feet deep at the deepest end.

The wrought iron chandliers brought out the simplicity of this house; She had noted that they were much sturdier than the crystal chandliers she recalled seeing at her home back on Malfi. And the wooden elements were easier to maintain than gold, another sign of practicality that she admitted saved the Snow family a lot of money.

Irri still missed the luxuries of her old life. The purple gown that she wore now was admittedly better than the astropathic robes she wore. It had faux gold threads, and orange sleeves that could be exchanged with other gowns. The material was still common quality, and still not good enough for a woman of her caliber.

During her time at the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, they had removed her ears and replaced them with grilles. This was because Irri was particularly sensitive to the whispering of daemons, as well as the melodies that she had grown up listening to and playing ever since she was a child. This had reduced her hearing capabilities. She had a horn that acted as a hearing aid for certain situations, although she could hear normal conversation. To her they were murmurs that she could barely make out.

She saw Hafza looking over a vase; the tech-priest seemed to be bored.

"I like this house. It is homey," the astropath noted. Walking up to a door, she noticed that there were holes on one door; it looked as if something had been screwed on once. Pushing the door aside, she entered the room.

The room was square, with truncated corners in the right side. There was a deep pink wallpaper with gold damask motif on all four walls, with white wainscoting on the bottom. On the ceiling hung an expensive-looking chandelier that Irri could tell was three hundred years old, give or take a few years. When she reached out to it with her mind she had a brief flash of a beautiful young woman purchasing it on a Forge-World. A canopy bed was pushed against the back wall, while a large expansive window let in light.

A vanity was pushed against the wall behind her; when she opened one drawer she found a diary. Inside it she saw a name written on the front cover.

 _Sirella Maria Snow_

Reading the diary entries, she found them interesting although a little alarming. The girl was trying to get into the nobility. She had been turned down by every man she had attempted to date for various reasons; some deemed her vapid and uninteresting, while others had perceived her as being fit for a low-class whore.

Using her ability of psychometry on it Irri drew up the image of Sirella from the memories surrounding it. She was much prettier than Marcella, with an oval face, long eyelashes and green eyes. Her hair was arranged in an similar style to the photo of an great-aunt that she had seen in the living room. When the astropath had compared the two in her mind, she could see how strikingly similar their features were.

In comparison, Marcella's face was plainer and it was easy to forget her face, as she looked more like the average hiveworlder. No one ever remarked on the assassin's face all through the journey to Epsilon Regalis.

Moving to the wardrobe and the ensuite attached to it, she had seen that everything in the room had been cleaned out.

' _Did the girl snap after too much rejections?'_ her thoughts turned to this question; It would explain why this room was empty. If this fact was accurate, she was sure that the girl had either committed murder or suicide.

Using her psychometry on the diary in her hands again, she was suddenly greeted with a vision.

 _ **(begin VISON Sequence)**_

 _Sirella Maria Snow was simmering with anger. Henry Regulus had rejected her for the twentienth time. He had chosen one of her neighbours as his fiancee. She was determined to prove that she was better than that idiotic bitch._

 _She had begun harassing the poor girl the day after the engagement. One day she had poured poo and piss on the girl. Another time she had sent a rival family damaging pictures of the girl caught up in another dalliance with a suitor. This had caused Regulus to break off his engagement to the girl, after the family had kidnapped her and sold her to a nearby brothel._

 _He had then chosen Gisela Rodríguez, a ballerina from the prestigious V_ _á_ _ndrueil Opera. Sirella had manipulated events so that she died during a dress rehearsal of a new opera. Then came several young women following after her. They were either murdered by other women vying for Regulus hand in marriage or assassinated by death-cult assassins hired by other rival families._

 _Soon after their deaths, he had become engaged to Natalia Bhatnagar. She was a rising star in the acting scene. Sirella had tried numerous time to kill the girl, but then her mother had figured out her role in Rodriguez's death, and was collecting the necessary evidence to charge her. When she heard of the wedding, she hatched a plan to complete her ambition; she would murder Bhatnagar then impersonate her._

 _She had barely succeeded in killing the girl with a bolter pistol filched from a nearby armory when her mother had arrested her on the way toward the shrine where she would impersonate the victim. After she was taken to the Fortress-Precinct where Mother worked at, she had been stripped of all the finery she was wearing and the gun she was carrying. Both items had been taken as evidence._

 _After her mother had sentenced her to life on Clandenn II, the woman had watched with disappointment as Sirella had been forced upon the penal barge collecting criminals from every corner of the Gehenna sector._

 _ **(end VISON sequence)**_

' _So that explains the empty room and why there had been screw holes on the door,'_ Irri thought. She wasn't surprised that Sirella had tried to murder her way into the nobility. Many people had done so and they had mostly paid with their lives, or worse.

"I am not surprised that Mother and Father chose to disown Sirella. She was too prideful to accept that the Emperor had plans for her to fall into obscurity," Marcella sighed as she entered the room, "I viewed her as a liability, and a vainglorious fool. She was too absorbed in her own dreams of boundless wealth and luxuries."

She took Sirella's diary and paged through the entries before pointing at one particular entry.

 _My Wedding Day_

 _I dreamed of a big ivory ballgown, but all I got was Grandma Lotnik's mint green dress. Instead of a big new diamond ring from a noble man all I got was a brass wedding band. The altar was not the Ecclesiarchy cathedral that I dreamed about, but the local courtroom. The reception was not the giant party I envisioned, with hundreds of people there; it was filled with only 75 people._

 _The drinks were beer and cheap amasec, not the champagne I envisioned. And my husband is a really ugly frakker, and low-class at that. I don't care for him. I'd rather let him die than fuck him._

"That diary says a lot about my sister's character," Marcella snorted, "She think living among the nobility is going to be fun. That beauty is everything. That luxury is going to make her feel better."

"I recall that when I was taken from my family, I hated being separated from the luxuries of my family. But when I was turned into a Astropath I found that the simplicity of that life was better than navigating the ever-changing intrigues of Malfi," Irri replied, "although I still long for some of them now."

"I recall that some of the rogue psykers that the Inquisition hunts down often come from the nobility," the Culexus operative noted, "Ever heard of the Burning Princess? She is rumored to be a scion of the Abrendroth Family on Scintilla who abilities came in on her wedding day. That psychic manifestion killed over twenty thousand people, including her entire family, as well as her husband-to-be's. An inquisitor and his retinue tried to capture her but they was also killed in the conflagration that followed."

"I've heard of her too," Irri replied, "looking back on that day I was brought aboard the Black Ships, I realized that my parents were too foolish to look past their ambitions. They tried to conceal me and they paid the price. I had been just newly engaged at the time, and the fact that when the Inquisitors came upon me they decreed that my betrothal was over before they threw me in the shuttles alongside one hundred and fifty others of various classes and professions."

"I've heard that my cousin was throne-wed, while another was sacrificed to the God-Emperor, Irri. I still don't know where my uncle Kostner and my brother Arthur is," Marcella crossed her arms.

"What do throne-wed means?" one of the children of the servants, a young boy of around seven asked as he entered the room.

Both women sputtered as they realized that the child had asked a rather awkward question. He was too young to know what the details of being wedded to the throne really meant, and Irri and Marcella had shooed him on his way.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Epsilon Regalis**

It was commonly known among the crew of the Graceful Star that both Hafza Fadia Al-Farsi and Marcella Snow couldn't hold their liquor very well. When they both were drunk, it was when the differences showed up. While on Stromark Prime, after the assassin had drunk the lager she had ordered, she had dissolved into a giggly mess. She began rubbing her face in Ippo's chest, much to his embarrassment and he had carried her all the way back to the shuttle. However, Syvas Brondell managed to snap a picture of the two and posted it on the local bulletin board where the rest of the crew laughed at it, much to Ippo's and Marcella's humiliation.

When Hafza was drunk, she often passed out and only the Catachan man was strong enough to carry the combined weight of both Hafza and her mechadendrites. However, this time she was much like Marcella, giggling and chatty. The group of women were reminiscing over glasses of non-alcoholic amasec over old childhood pictures.

"This was me at age three. From what my mother told me, I had stripped down to my birthday suit and wound up streaking through my father's office while he was in an important meeting with other members of the Imperial guard!" Marcella laughed as she held up a picture of her younger self; in this picture, she was naked.

"I recall when I was four, my brothers and I had a mud fight on Kantrael. My parents managed to capture that moment," Hafza chuckled at the memory. She passed around a picture of two older boys and her, all filthy with mud. All three were laughing as they stood side by side.

"This was the last picture I ever had with my parents before I was taken," Irri held up a picture of three people. One obviously was Irri; from what the group had observed of it, she once had mocha brown hair, bright green eyes and lightly tanned skin. They could see the henna tattooing on her hands.

"My parents had just announced my betrothal to Cassius Malabar III. He was a scion of the Malabar dynasty. The celebration of this event had just begun when the Inquisition came alongside several personnel of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. My mother, Amritta and father, Vaskitar, tried to hide me in a closet while the raid to collect people like me was going on. But it didn't matter as one of the inquisitors had already figured out what they were doing and his underlings dragged me out of that hiding place. They then arrested my parents and made me watch as he shot them in the head as he declared them Excommunicate Traitoris.

I saw several others in the party receiving similar treatment as me; they were also psychic. One of them happened to be the youngest child of the Chalices dynasty, he was only three. Another was Naamah Cûchilann, a dancer from the Corthburt dance company. She had just debuted as prima ballerina the night before. Just like her, I was just beginning my career as a cello soloist. My first performance would also be my last," she explained through tears.

"What happened to Cûchilann?" Renata asked as she sipped her amasec.

"She was sacrificed to the God-Emperor. She was too weak for the Adeptus Astra Telepathica to use her in any capacity whatever. To add insult to injury, they had also noticed that the poor girl was obsessed with dance and decided that she was easily corruptible," Irri replied. "I foresaw her fate the day before we arrived on Holy Terra."

"I once had an arranged marriage to an elderly man from Tallarn, Irri. My extended family tried to pressure me in accepting it, but I chose the Cult Mechanicus over that life. They instead chose to marry my cousin to that man," Hafza put her hand on her chin, "I still don't understand why some women on my ancestor's world still submit to their families's whim."

"I've heard that some men choose to marry girls as young as 6. I personally find it sickening," Marcella replied.

"It's a good thing that you are twenty-four, Marcella," Irri replied. "I was twenty at my betrothal, twenty-two when I arrived on Holy Terra, and twenty-five when I was soul-bound."

"I consented to the marriage because I trust Ippo. He's the one who saved me from this living hell," Marcella admitted, "I'd rather live a normal life with him than continue on the path I was on previously."

* * *

 **Stromark Prime**

Martin Pouliot didn't expect to be dragged in for interrogation. He was a mid-level weapon dealer, and people often noted the high quality of his wares even though he was not as well-known as others. He had struck out on his own after a decade-long stint working at Alton and Rathbone's Guns, a prominent gun business with several branches in the hive where he worked at. He had been operating this business for the last three years out of a small stand in the marketplace, and had begun saving up to buy a storefront for his business as it had begun to thrive.

Now stuck in this forsaken chamber Pouliot wondered what he had done to merit the Holy Ordos's attention. He was bound to a chair, and he was not looking forward to the impeding confrontation.

"I am Denton Briar of the Ordos Sicarious. I recovered information from your files that you may had sold one of your wares to one of the Officio Assassinorum's agents," a tall man with ruddy skin stood in front of him.

He slid a piece of paper under Pouliot's face. The vendor instantly recognized it as a recording of his transactions from the fifth month of the year M42.013.

 **Name- Wares sold- Total price**

 _Theodore Bundchen Lasgun, battery pack- 11615 stromogas_

 _Kord Millicent- broadsword, lasgun -12170 stromogas_

 _Norys Aremann- broadsword -950 stromogas_

 _Marcella Snow- throwing knives x9- 2700 stromogas_

 _Vincent Maggins- throwing knives x9- 2700 stromogas_

 _K'meea Seth- custom rapier- 175000 stromogas_

… _._

"What do you recall about the woman called Marcella Snow, Pouliot?" the Inquisitor gestured to the fourth name on the list.

"She was a small woman. The thing I noticed about her was her red left eye—I couldn't stop staring at it. And these creepy lines going up and down her face didn't help matters. I just sold the throwing knives to her after she inquired about it. She even tested out one on a nearby aiming board," Pouliot replied.

"Any more that stand out in your mind?" Briar pressed on.

"Blonde hair and cocoa brown skin," he replied.

"Just as I thought," the Inquisitor replied, "You just confirmed my suspicions."

He then shot Pouliot in the head. The last thoughts of the vendor were that he wouldn't be opening a store anytime soon.

* * *

 _Marcella Snow saw Dark Eldar chasing her on that ship. Every one slashing or torturing her. She ran down an endless array of hallways, never finding an exit or escape pod…_

A sharp shake snapped a screaming Marcella out of her nightmares, before warm arm wrapped around her in a warm embrace.

"It's ok, it's ok. You're safe," Ippo's voice whispered as he rocked her. They had shared a bed ever since it turned out that Marcella had struggled with nightmares of the incident that had forced her off her previous ship. She knew that the only other person who had nightmares that had stemmed from psychological trauma was Irri.

From what Irri had told her crewmates, she still screamed in the night as she relived her soul-binding all over again. The woman had briefly fought the guards who was escorting her to the chambers where the withered remains of the Emperor was situated. She had evaded them for a few hours, before a null Inquisitor had found her hiding in a closet. Soon after Irri had been dragged to the ritual circle, and it had held her down in that spot for the duration of the ceremonies. She had screamed as she lost her sight, then her skin and hair had become pale from the stresses that had been forced upon her body.

Even now, Irri cursed her gifts as it had been the reason why she had gone through such pain and misfortune. She was a Delta-level psyker, with her divinatory abilities being her strongest, while her telepathy and telekinesis being somewhat lesser, but equal in strength.

Marcella had mused that if it was not for the Black Ships' intervention, Irri Kelash's fate would have been far worse. She would have fallen to Chaos, and become one of the Officio Assassinorum's high-priority targets. Marcella would have been dispatched to kill the woman in a mission.

She pressed her face into Ippo's chest, reassured by his hands rubbing her back. When they had begun the discussion regarding their upcoming marriage the two had agreed that sexual intercourse would begin on their wedding night, as they would need to know each other on an emotional and intellectual level before diving any deeper in the relationship.

But It wasn't lost upon Ippo that Marcella could be quite reckless at times. Sometime she did things that often put others at risk, and it was when he had stepped in to keep her from doing stupid stuff. Once when she was drunk she had unknowingly instigated an altercation with a man; he was also drunk. The rogue trader had restrained her, but with much effort as she had enhanced strength because of her Temple augmentations. Another time Marcella had forgot to put on her suppressive goggles; a few people had died because of this oversight. Her mother and Ippo had chastised her for this action.

She was about to fall back asleep, but decided against it.

"Remember the time Syvas got drunk?" Marcella giggled.

"Yeah. He bragged about the time he was the first to taste the nectar of the flower of Narchesia," Ippo answered.

"I don't really want to know what he meant," she admitted.

"I remember one time my father deflowered the Syressian heiress. The family was quite pissed off at him," he told her, "my memory is fuzzy about the details but I think it occurred at a party in the Ixaniad sector."

"I recall that my sister wanted to be deflowered by one of the noblemen here. Her attempts to do so didn't go far. My parents were insistent on teaching my sister humility. She rebelled against such ideas, and my grandpa enabled her. She was always the manipulative bitch. I recalled when I was young, she had spread gossip that end up discrediting a girl and her family and kept them from rising any further.

When my parents had forcibly married her to that Imperial guardsman they had hoped that the lesson that she was to live by the means she would have available would stick. It didn't," Marcella noted.

"The fact that Sirella is now in the penal legions is a sharp reminder to her that if she had obeyed her parents' wishes she would have been happier," Ippo replied.

"I've read my parents' will, Ippo. What would have been given to Sirella upon my parents' death has been divvied up between Kevin, Neillias and me," Marcella nodded in agreement.

The two cuddled together for a few more minutes before they got up for the day.

* * *

 _ **The Unwavering Resolver**_

Briar sighed as he read the correspondence from Lord Inquisitor Thrawn Eisenhorn; he had specifically requested a Callidus assassin for a long-term mission to infiltrate a Chaos cult he was working to take apart on Vaam Phusk. He had also requested an Eversor as a back up in case the hierarchy on the world was completely corrupted by daemonic forces. The man was a smart fellow; on many occasions the strategic deployment of an Temple assassin had changed the tides of the battle.

One particularly famous example in recent years had occurred on Mittar Hamav. The planetary governor and his advisors had thrown their lots in with Chaos. They had begun a ritual to summon a daemon, but a drop-pod containing an Eversor had dropped into the courtyard they were using to conduct their unholy business. Everybody were brutally slaughtered, and the Chaotic forces gathering above the world had scattered as soon as they had witnessed the massacre from the vid-screens of the corrupted ships.

 _ **+++ Zeta-level clearance- Anyone who reads the following info without the proper authorization will suffer a slow, agonizing death, courtesy of the Holy Ordos. +++**_

 _ **+++Date: the sixth day of the sixth month of the thirteenth year of the 42**_ _ **nd**_ _ **Millennium.**_

 _ **To: Denton Briar**_

 _ **From: Thrawn Eisenhorn**_

 _ **Subject: Assassin requisitions**_

 _Denton Briar_

 _It has recently come to my attention that a Chaos cult has risen amongst the planetary elite on the world of Vaam Phusk. I begun investigating the world after hearing of the lax laws there. What I uncovered during my time there rang a few alarm bells, and I had decided to focus on the activities of the planetary governor as a result._

 _During my investigation, I quickly uncovered that the man had deliberately loosened the laws there; he had set up a cunning plan that locked much of the Arbites into the cells they policed. He planned to have the Fortress-Precincts blown up, but luckily for them I could intervene; I had the explosives that he had purchased seized. I then hauled in many of his servants for interrogation. They told me that the nobility had followed him into the arms of Chaos, and that they had begun to contact other chaotic factions._

 _I plan to infiltrate this cult with the aim of dismantling it; to do it I need the aid of a Callidus assassin to assassinate high-priority targets, and an Eversor as a backup in case the entire hierarchy proves irredeemable._

 _Thrawn Eisenhorn_

 **+++End correspondence+++**

Briar begun writing out an answer; this was a minor inconvenience. He would have preferred to focus his time investigating any possible traces of Operative XXXIV-IX, but he would have to grudgingly follow the orders of the aforementioned Lord Inquisitor.

 **+++ Begin Correspondence+++**

 _ **Re**_ : _ **Assassin requisitions**_

 _ **To: Thrawn Eisenhorn**_

 _ **From: Denton Briar**_

 _I have reviewed your paperwork and the information related to your investigation, and I agree that the situation needs some delicacy. The fact that there is a delicate balance of power between the Parsinus, Pistorius and Mellorich families that now hold temporary power over the populace mean we must proceed carefully. I am dispatching the Callidus operative MCLXII-CI and the Eversor operative CLXXI-XII to your position._

 _I will monitor the situation and send more operatives as it changes._

 _Denton Briar_

 **+++ End correspondence+++**

His thoughts turned to the operative he was trying to recover. He had planned to head straight to Epsilon Regalis as he thought that it would be the most likely location she would be going to. But this quest would have to be put on the backburner for now, which he found to be a bit disappointing.

He recalled the first time he had set afoot upon Vaam Phusk; at that time the planetary governor was in the process of seceding. His master had dispatched a Veneneum operative to assassinate the woman. But the subject was horribly paranoid and she had hired a food-taster for her latest party. This attempt was detected because of the aforementioned decision. A Callidus was sent afterwards. It went off without a hitch as this operative could impersonate her trusted advisor before she had slit her target's throat.

According to the Imperial records, Vaam Phusk was a mining world, with a populace of around eighteen million. Its imperial tithe was Solutio Secundius. Briar recalled that the last time a planetary governor failed to pay the yearly tithe, he was swiftly executed.

' _This event is not going to be a pleasant one,'_ the inquisitor thought sourly.

* * *

Marcella peeked into a pet shop window; behind the display glass were a litter of kittens. One was playing with a ball of yarn, while a couple of them were fast asleep. A fourth one peeked at the assassin from behind her hiding spot; she seemed skittish. Another five were drinking milk from a bowl.

"Kitty lover?" Renata asked her. She nodded, before she returned to the group.

"I'm amazed that a person like you could behave in a normal manner, Marcella," Irri noted, "to the rest of the people around you, you are a living nightmare. Your parents could have abandoned you, but they accepted you with the good and the bad qualities you embody. "

"I still don't understand why my mother kept me. But it turned out alright, considering my traits. Most of my kind are psychopaths. I'm autistic," Marcella answered, "I can recall facts and things as if they were yesterday. I find lying abhorrent. And no matter how much I try, I can't make a good lie up."

"Really?" Renata was stunned.

"If I tried to make one up, most people wouldn't believe me. You would have to ask Mother; she knows that I am a really bad liar," She replied, "When I dealt with a corrupt officer, I didn't tell her all kind of honeyed answers. I just nodded like an idiot while she ranted about all kinds of shit. After I took the evidence that proved her corruption to the Arbites she spilled the beans."

"Speaking of corrupt officials, there are way too many these days," Hafza chimed in.

The other three women nodded in agreement.

"There's the shop," Irri gestured to one storefront. It was painted an ecru color, with various styles of formal dresses displayed in the front. The sign read ' _Lil Karu's Couture_.

The party to celebrate Marcella's engagement was coming up in three months; It was to be a small black-tie affair consisting of only fifty to seventy people. The reason was that Marcella wasn't comfortable with large soirees, she had never gone to such parties as a child. Add to that her social awkwardness and it was understandable that the assassin was more likely to be a wallflower.

"Let's go in, friends. I want to see what the shop has for us," Renata pushed the door aside to let in the other women.

There were drawing of many styles of necklines, sleeves and skirts emblazoned on posters on the walls, while behind the counters were a variety of materials in various colors and patterns. Marcella was especially drawn to a bolt of crimson silk crepe de chine and another of the same color in georgette, while Irri gazed upon a bolt of purple brocade; she had asked for a swatch so she could match it with other pieces of material. Renata was especially enamoured with a silk fabric in a pine green. Hafza had selected the same thing as Marcella, but she had chosen to add a silk satin in gold as an accent.

The proprietor of the shop, a small and rather pudgy woman roughly the same height as the assassin helped the three through their choices; Marcella had selected a sleeveless high-necked style with a buttoned back. She had decided that it would be embellished with silver sequins around the neck, and it would also have a thin belt embellished with a small crystal buckle that she had personally selected from a stand in the shop. The skirts would be an A-line, with a soft flowing vibe and a small sweep train.

Irri had opted for a corseted portrait-style neckline in the aforementioned brocade with a mermaid style satin skirt; it also had a sweep train. Layered over it would be a translucent tulip overskirt in a shimmering gold gorgette, while she had chosen cuffed sleeves in the same material.

Hafza had requested a formal abaya; it was to be beaded and lightly embroidered. The sleeves were to be lined with her accent material of choice, while a gold beaded lace hijab would be added to the outfit. This clothing was designed to accommodate her mechadendrites, which obviously couldn't be removed.

Renata had selected a halter keyhole neck dress with an embroidered and beaded tulip short skirt. This was to show off her long legs, which the woman said was her best features.

They left the shop after they had paid their deposits.

* * *

Ippo looked over the ring that he had chosen to encase the garnet in. It was a relatively simple setting; it was a sterling silver band with a setting that was designed to hold the garnet he had purchased. He had it shaved down to 4mm from its original 8mm to proportionally fit her ring finger. Inscribed inside the band was the High Gothic words _Semper Fidelis_.

He had chosen the metal because it wasn't as eye-catching as gold and somewhat cheaper. And he wanted the ring to be an heirloom passed down through the generations of Bellinis.

"That is a lovely ring," Deckard "Dekko" Rittorzi, a voidborn Ecclesiarchy priest he had picked up on Kuluth years ago noted as he admired it.

"I know that it's not much, but it fits Marcella well," he replied.

"FRAKKING RING! DAMNED WHORES!" the sulphur-crested cockatoo in the back of the room swore, "FRAKKING UGLIEST BITCH IN THE GALAXY!"

The bird was called Ignesias and he had been bequeathed to Ippo by a sanctioned psyker from Syvas Brondell's homeworld. The man had purchased the bird on Cadia two decades ago. Upon his death from old age he had requested that Ippo take care of his pet.

But that Emperor-damned bird was an embarrassment to the entire crew of the Graceful Star. The group had often drawn sticks to determine who got Ignesias for the day during off-ship excursions. If the person got the yellow-tipped stick, s/he had to bring him with her/him.

Ippo had drawn this stick many times, and so had Dekko. Even the others weren't immune to getting it. Irri had drawn it roughly fifteen times, while Syvas had gotten the stick thirty times. Renata and Marcella had the fewest, at three and one, respectively. Hafza, on the other hand, had drawn it over forty times.

He could recall that once while on a space station, both Renata and Marcella had tried to sell the bird. The two failed spectacularly in their attempts. Even now both women had lamented their ill-thought plans.

"I hate that infernal bird," Ippo sighed in embarrassment.

"Me too. I wish we could sell him," Dekko replied, "But people consider him to be the most memorable part of the crew."

' _That fact was the truest thing about our crew,'_ the rogue trader thought bitterly. Ignesias sure made a lasting impression on the people that the group had encountered through the years. They couldn't recall the crew of the Graceful Star without associating the swearing cockatoo with the group.

"On your upcoming marriage, may I suggest some pre-marital counselling?" Dekko's question nearly caught him off-guard, "You may have had known her for a year, but you still doesn't know Marcella that well, Ippo."

"She is quite slow to open up to me. There are things that she refuses to speak of, even now," he replied.

"What kind of things?" the priest asked.

"Top-secret stuff. If you delve too deeply in the shit that the Officio Assassinorum knows about her, you're more likely to be offed instantly," he sighed.

Dekko's face instantly paled at the thought of the aforementioned organization. He recalled that once one of his fellow priests had tried to expose the temple assassin who had killed one of his superiors; It didn't go well for the foolish victim. Whatever this guy went through, it sent chills down Dekko's spine. He certainly didn't want to know the details.

"I get what you mean. But marriage require a lot of knowledge and work on both sides," He told Ippo, "It means knowing what her aspirations, her vulnerabilities and her idiosyncrasies are, and in turn she knows yours. Communication is key to a good marriage. If she tells something is bothering her, listen, and vice versa. It's the same with other events occurring in your marriage; you have to communicate with her on how the two of you are feeling."

Ippo sighed. Dekko's advice was a wise one but he was wary of the Officio Assassinorum, as if he knew certain things that the aforementioned organization were privy to, he would be killed.

* * *

 **Three months later**

The Snow estate was abuzz with activity as the preparations for the part celebrating Marcella Snow's engagement to Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini. Decorations were being hung up, while tables were set up with various displays of food.

Meanwhile, Marcella was sitting at the vanity in her bedroom while her mother brushed her hair. The previous day she had drawn the dreaded yellow-tipped stick before she had went with her friends to pick up the dresses they had commissioned. She was understandably embarrassed by Ignesias' swearing while they were in the shop, and she had left the shop as soon as she had paid for it.

"I hate the frakking bird. He NEVER shuts up when I tell him otherwise," Marcella grumbled, "Yesterday he swore up a storm in Lil' Karu's Couture. I spent the better part of an hour trying frantically to shut Ignesias up."

"These kinds of birds tend to imitate what their masters are saying, Marcella," her mother replied, "One of my old colleagues got saddled with one after his brother died in war."

"What kind?" she asked.

"If I remember correctly it was a Hufihian Red-crested Macaw," her mother's reply stunned the assassin.

From what Marcella could recall, this species was a descendants of the first parrots brought there. They rapidly procreated all over the world, developing into several sub-species. This bird was roughly mid-sized at around 21-30 inches in height with a wingspan of around 40-45 inches. Their main diet was nuts, with some supplementing it with insects.

"Did the bird cuss just as much as Ignesias?" she asked her mother.

Her mother nodded wordlessly.

Marcella's hair was bundled into a ponytail at the back of her hair, and her mother begun braiding it. Looking upon the table she could see another null-aura suppressor; it was disguised as a headband bedecked with a single rose on the right side. Hafza had spent two nights putting this version together. She removed her googles before placing the headband on her head, with the suppressor plugs fitting into her implants.

Her mother then bound the braid into a bun, securing it with bobby pins that had been colored to blend in with her dirty blonde hair.

"You look good, my little pumpkin," she told Marcella.

Marcella gazed at her reflection; Her eyes had been made up in a soft, smoky eye with shades of gray, charcoal and beige, while her lips were covered in a matte plum lipstick. Her cheekbones had been softly highlighted with coral blush. But even her makeup didn't hide these ugly green lines on her face that she absolutely hated.

The women stood up and left the room.

* * *

The room had a festive ambience; various people were standing in groups. They were conversing about various things.

"Have you heard that someone has been pilfering things from the Departmento Munitorum warehouses in the sector?" Marcella Snow's father was conversing with a few guests.

"I've heard rumors about it, too, Ethan," Ippo agreed, "It seems that things that the Imperial guard forces requisitioned never arrived on the world they were at."

"And not to mention the backstabbing going on in there," another man replied, "Seems that the heads of the work camps of the Departmento Munitorum spend more time playing politics than actually providing the necessities for the ongoing wars."

"I've heard that Scualt hired a death-cult assassin to off two of his rivals to climb the hierarchy. He didn't succeed in securing the position he wanted," Ethan Snow added.

"Who is Scualt?" Syvas's question nearly caught the two men off-guard.

"The crooked head of the Holibanus work camps. He was dragged in by the Inquisition for questioning because of his connections with known heretics," Ippo replied.

"And to add to the wounds in the bastard's ego, I believe that the department head just selected his nephew to succeed him," Kevin Snow chimed in.

"I've heard that Scault tried to pay the assassin on the Inquisitor's payroll to off the guy, but he got his arms cut off as punishment," The man who brought up the topic replied.

* * *

"Have you heard of Nikolla Holloway? She's the new prima ballerina at the Vándrueil Opera," Renata held a glass of cheap amasec in her hand.

"I've heard about her, too. There are some rumors about her; seems like she sometime spaces out at random. When it happens, some strange things occur around her," Hafza answered.

"It is quite eeriely like my experiences with my nascent powers. I recall that during functions like this while conversing with someone I had flashes of a future event involving the person in question a few times. Sometime my voice would change and I would utter a prophecy about that scenario," Irri admitted.

"Like the fortune you told Ivanna Milosevicha?" Renata asked.

The Astropath merely nodded.

"I may need to investigate further to see if it's true. If Nikolla Holloway is an unsanctioned psyker as some sources has claimed, she probably will react to my unsuppressed presence in a certain way," Marcella's voice had turned cold and monotonous.

"What would that reaction be?" One of the other women's questions had butted into the conversation.

"Panic, followed by unconsciousness, then eventually death," She snapped back, "There is a reason why psykers fear people like me. I am a living void in the Immaterium, and I act as their anti-thesis."

"Not to mention that Marcella feeds off psychic energies. She finds it _rejuvenating_ ," Hafza's words, carried with a cold analytic tone chilled the unnamed woman to the bone.

"If the Inquisition even finds out about the poor dancer, she'll be thrown on a Black Ship after they have located her," Irri added.

"I've heard an urban legend about an actor in the Sephadollion sector who was conscripted into the Inquisition because of his method acting," Marcella changed the topic out of sheer annoyance at the probing questions.

"I've heard of the frakker, too," Renata added, "Some of the crew members the _St. Peregrine_ picks up frequently came from the sector."

"From what little rumors I've picked up on the frakking subject, he was consigned to a mental institution a year after his stint with the Inquisition. He was never seen in public afterwards," Marcella tugged her front strand in contemplation.

"I recall that a few years ago there was a similar story back home on Malfi. A rising star in the theatres had a similar knack for method acting. He was conscripted after an Inquisitor noticed his talents. He was never seen or heard from ever since," Irri's story was shocking but not surprising.

Marcella was about to open her mouth, but a familiar hand wrapped around her shoulder. She turned to see Ippo; the assassin blushed brightly.

"Time for the announcement," he told her as he escorted her to the stage; she turned beet red because so many people's attention was focused on her. As Ippo gently grasped Marcella's hand, she could see her elder brother walking up to the voxphone.

"I am pleased to announce that we have found my younger sister!," He spoke in it, "For years we searched for her. Many were impostors eager to get into the marriage with Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini, but we all saw through their lies because of DNA technology. But Bellini found her at last; she was in an escape pod, the direct result of a Dark Eldar raid on her vessel. He brought her home.

Now we want to announce the betrothal of Marcella Snow to Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini, to further bind the Snow and Bellini dynasties together!"

Ippo gently pulled Marcella to the front of the stage; so many people's eyes were on her. She had never felt so embarrassed and so awkward at having so many people's attention upon her. He took out a small box, and opened it to reveal a simple silver garnet ring.

He slipped it on her ring finger, before he grasped her right hand. The crowd cheered as Marcella turned beet red. She suddenly felt light-headed, before she passed out.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Epsilon Regalis**

Magic Forest Realm was a new amusement park. It had been built in the area where the Joyful Lion Studios and four abandoned hab-blocks once stood. The park had been established by the business magnate Krios Vándrueil-Strabhaus shortly before his mysterious death, and his nephew had taken over the operation.

It had grown immensely popular through the years; the people had raved about the food and the rides there. The place had been set up in a woodland theme, with faux trees and creatures carved from wood, then painted in strikingly realistic colors. There were various rides, all which emptied into a souvenir shop or a café, while the entrance was on another side.

The crew of the Graceful Star was currently inside the funhouse. Syvas Brondell and Marcella Snow was currently engaged in a contest in which they tried to outdo each other in making the most outrageous facial expressions while looking into the strangely-shaped mirrors.

"It seems that both Syvas and Marcella share one quality in common," Irri Kelash sighed in annoyance.

"What would that be?" Renata asked.

"An astounding lack of professionalism," Dekko replied, "There are standards that these two are expected to live up to. But their behavior here make me think that maybe they would be better off as a comedy duo."

"They can be quite immature at time," Ippo replied, "I've seen Syvas making fart noises with his cheeks when we were all bored to tears. Marcella often whistles earworms to annoy the rest of us, and she has also taken up the same thing."

"I also see that these two also share a common love for pranks. Remember when they pranked the head navigator?" Renata giggled.

The crew could recall this prank. Marcella had filled a bucket with ice-cold water and Syvas had placed it on the top of the doors leading into the navigator chambers. When the head navigator, Vince Belisarius, had opened the door he had been doused. He had chased both all over the ship; only Marcella's null powers had prevented them from feeling the effects of Belisarius's third eye.

"I recall that one. It was surprisingly funny. I remember when Marcella put a fake snake in my bed. It scared me," Irri nodded in agreement.

"I filmed that one, Irri," Hafza chimed in, "It was hilarious. I laughed for hours after viewing that clip."

"Me too," Ippo chuckled as he wrapped his arm around his fiancée. The young woman blushed lightly at the attention.

"Me three," Syvas high-fived Marcella, "That was a mighty good one."

"It wasn't that funny to me," the astropath protested.

"FRAKKING SNAKES, FRAKKING VIDS, FRAKKING—, "Dekko promptly grabbed Ignesias' beak and squeezed it shut. He had a clearly embarrassed expression as people turned their backs to stare at the group.

"By the Golden Throne, I FRAKKING HATE THAT BIRD!" Marcella yelled, clearly annoyed by the things the infernal cockatoo currently perched on the priest's shoulder was saying. She had turned a nice shade of beet red in embarrassment.

"Agreed," Hafza's hands met her face as she groaned in humiliation. There were similar reactions from the rest of the Graceful Star's crew. Even as the crowds laughed at the group, they were growing increasingly frustrated with Ignesias.

"Let's leave the park," an irritated Ippo chimed in; there were murmurs of agreement.

* * *

 **Vaam Phusk**

Tobius Strabbhaus was currently hiding in a closet. He was a high-ranking adepta, and he had been recently promoted to the ranks of the comptroller of his hive. But however, a few months ago, he had found out that his superiors had turned to Chaos. He didn't even mention it to colleagues as he was too terrified of the Holy Ordos ever since he had seen some of his peers being dragged off, never to be seen again.

The reason why he was doing this was that he had seen that monster of a killer. It had entered the building where the main hub of Administrium activity was located. He had seen colleagues flee as soon as they saw the bloodied form of the assassin; they didn't get far.

Gemma Chalifoux had been beheaded with a precise slice by a power sword, while Meryn Ravencourt and Ming Xin-Zhan had dropped dead from the toxins that coated the killer's gauntlet. Naaman Abendroth had his head blown off by a bolt fired from the strange gun that his murderer had carried. It had all occurred in a span of ten seconds, which Tobius had watched on the live-cam videos with abject terror.

The assassin then proceeded to cleave Waylan Stormund, a logister comptroller, down the middle. Both halves fell to the floor in opposite directions. Samara Valerie had begged the monster to stop killing her friends, but she didn't get what she wanted. She had her spine ripped from her body.

The adepta rummaged in the dark; he fiddled with the puzzle lock of a secret passage situated in this closet. It was commonly known among the workers in the building that it used to be the estate of a prominent family before they were all wiped out in a coordinated effort by the Holy Ordos to purge a heretic movement three centuries earlier. The building had all kind of secret passages built in it to enable an easy escape for the previous occupants.

He had managed to open the door; he had begun running down the winding hallways that would lead him to the outside but it was futile as he was quickly beheaded. He urged his body further, not noticing that it laid on the ground of the passage because of the darkness in the hallway. It was only when Tobius looked in the leering, glowing red eyes of his killer that he realized that he was nearly dead.

* * *

Briar watched the proceedings with a grim interest. He had uncovered another Chaotic cult lurking among the high-ranking adeptus of the Administrium on Vaam Phusk. The corruption was so deeply entrenched in the group that he had no choice but to unleash CLXXI-XII upon the traitorous scum there.

The massacre was still ongoing; Some of the members of the cult had fled the building. The Eversor was pursuing them, cutting and shooting anyone who dared get in his way.

' _All of the heretical filth will be dead by sunset, hopefully,'_ the inquisitor thought. Briar knew that the Callidus that he had provided to Thrawn Eisenhorn was assassinating the inner circle, while the man was going after the corrupted planetary governor himself, accompanied by a brotherhood of Gray Knights. The fool had become possessed by a powerful demon. The prognosticars had foreseen this and had sent the forces.

The aforementioned group was currently moving into the bowels of the mansion, with the intent to seal the Warp portal that the fool and his traitorous advisors had opened. Eisenhorn had advised him to remain behind to monitor the purges of much of the planetary elite.

Briar sighed. He had explained to Thrawn Eisenhorn that he had planned to retrieve the Culexus operative XXXIV-IX, but the man had told him that it was more important to focus on addressing the Chaotic influences currently infiltrating numerous planets. That and the fact that from the man's psychic visions that he had regarding future events indicated that Briar would be needed to assist him for the foreseeable future.

He returned his attention to the vid-feed; CLXXI-XII had just cut down another traitorous adeptus. From what Briar could recall from the assassin's background, he had been scooped up from a death-cult on the shrine world of St. Antigone's Harbour at five years old after showing some promise. The young boy had met criteria for entrance in the Eversor temple after he had gleefully killed six of his fellow trainees in a bloody rampage that had lasted fifteen minutes. Add to that he had psychotic episodes that endangered others and it was little wonder why the recruiter for the Officio Assassinorum had selected him for further training in the hallowed halls of the Imperium's sledgehammer assassins.

Even now as an operative of the Eversor Temple CLXXI-XII had retained a reminder of his origins; a blood-red rosary with the logo of his death-cult emblazoned on a pendant at the end, and it hung around his neck.

* * *

' _Kill! Maim! Murderalltraitors!_ _PraisetheEmperor!'_ CLXXI-XII was happiest when he was killing the infidels that threatened his beloved Imperium. The screaming adeptus around him were no exception. One man had tried to flee through an secret passage, but the assassin had followed him into it and deftly beheaded him with a flick of his power sword.

Several hulking combat servitors had been bought out; They were currently blocking his path to his objective. He outran the stubber rounds that they fired from their attached guns, before he plunged his neurogauntlet in their bodies. The life soon burned out of their mindless organic parts.

Leaping over a barricade, he sliced two guards in half, while another three dropped dead from the poisonous shards that he had fired from his combi-weapon. Another man had charged him with the intention to kill CLXXI-XII, but he just grabbed the man and ripped his skull from his spinal cord. He then pulled off a vicious kick that had killed five other victims in an instant.

Running down the hallways he brought several heretics to justice. Some of them had sold highly confidential data to banned parties, while other had conspired to aid the Chaotic cult embedded in the building. They all fell to his wrath, be it be his executioner pistol, neuro-gauntlet or power sword.

Sent'mor Burroughs; Known heretic. Sold information on Imperium defences to the Alpha Legion. Chest blown out by a bolter round.

Kommar V'lerie; Suspected of malfeasance in the Cothburt hive archives. Sliced in half by power sword.

Seth Salazar; Known informant of the Black Legion; Killed by a precise hit to the head by one half of V'Lerie's corpse.

CLXXI-XII had only brought half of the heretics to justice in this hallway when the eagle in his head urged him further, toward the conference room where the leadership was currently situated. He took out a melta bomb; it had been recently upgraded with a stasis device inspired by Federation designs. This type of bomb enabled a larger explosion with more destructive potential.

Saying a prayer to the machine spirit embedded in it he threw it at the sixteen foot doors leading to the room where his objective was situated. The bomb attached to the wooden material, and after approximately thirty seconds it detonated, burning away the doors. The Eversor charged into the room.

Fifteen cultists chanted in union in the black tongues of the Ruinous Powers. They were once the heads of the various bureaucracy departaments of Vaam Phusk, but the worship of the aforementioned powers had warped them into horrifying mockeries of themselves. One man's face had acquired six new eyes in place of his nose and mouth, while another had five horns growing out of his head. Two women had acquired hooves that replaced their feet, while another was warped so badly she was barely recognizable.

"BLOOD for the BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" three adeptus charged CLXXII-XII, wielding huge axes and swords in the hands; He took care of them by disarming them before he blew their chest out with bolter rounds from his combi-weapon. Four Tzeteenchian cultists were disembowelled in rapid succession by precision strikes to their head with his power sword while he charged at them at 95 KPH; They never got the chance to ready their unholy magics. Four Nurglite cultists fell to his neurogauntlet, each one curling up in pain as the poisons did their work. The Eversor assassin then knocked down a Slaaneshi cult member, ripped her skull off her body and hurled it at another cultist, killing him instantly before he plunged his neurogauntlet in another unfortunate victim. The assassin then hurled a melta bomb at the last two. One man had caught the object and it exploded, ripping the two traitors' bodies apart.

But even as CLXXII-XII went about his grisly work of killing the traitors he noticed that five genemarkers were missing. He would pursue them to the ends of the world, even if it meant his death. The hunt would continue.

* * *

 **Epsilon Regalis**

Fabiano's Bar and Pasta was one of the newest restaurants on the scene, but it was beginning to collect a small but devoted following for the cheap, but tasty food. For this date, Ippo had booked a table for two, and now he and Marcella waited in the lobby for their turn. Her face was a tomato red and the rogue trader had sworn that if the lights were to go out at this moment, her blush would keep the entire room alit for a long time.

He had recall that every time he had gave her little things to improve the comfort of her quarters she had the same exact reaction. But the icing on the cake was the time that he had gave her twelve long-stemmed roses in various colors of red, pink and yellow. She had fainted upon seeing the bouquet. The rest of the crew had ribbed him for a long time about that incident.

"I hear that the new club across the street has pretty groovy décor," a rotund man in an orange jumpsuit that exposed his hairy chest laughed, "there are long lineups to get in it."

"I've seen it. All hot pink, silver, chocolate brown and ivory," his friend, a lanky man with a hooked nose replied.

"The dancers in that club are pretty hot, from what I hear. All curves, and not a single anorexic in sight. I like my women with a little meat on my bone," a third man clad in a neon green suit that seared Ippo's eyes chimed in.

"I'd love to fuck these ladies," Orange chuckled.

"Me too," Hooky clapped his hands.

"These men's minds are in the gutter, Marcella," Ippo rolled his eyes as he overheard the conversation.

"No kidding. They're definitely pervs," The assassin snorted, "I overheard their whispering and it seems that they can't even snag a lady. One of them even admitted that he is a fugitive on the run from the Arbites for drugging women then raping them while they were unconscious!"

"And where would that be?" He replied.

"A little-known pleasure world called Clandenn III. I heard what the ass said loud and clear, even though he tried to keep it from getting out." Marcella whispered in Ippo's ear, "Frakking Temple augmentations enhanced my hearing to the point that I can hear even the smallest thing."

The restaurant pager vibrated in the rogue trader's pocket, signalling that their table was ready. A tall brunette waiter led them to a table near the window facing the street. The couple could see the signage of the club that the men discussed.

Club Aurora, it screamed out in blocky words in a neon pink on the exterior. The building was approximately four and a half stories high. Two of the stories had blacked out windows; while a bunch of partygoers caroused on the rooftop patio.

"Something seems fishy about this club," Marcella grumbled, as she looked out the window at this building, "why would the owners permanently black out these windows?"

"I honestly don't know," Ippo replied. The couple ordered their beverages before they sat in silence, mulling the mystery that was Club Aurora.

"I've overheard rumors about one Zhanti Hakunovy. He's a famous actor who sponsored the opening of this club," Ippo put his hands under his chin, "Seems that he has been importing a bunch of expensive liquor to this planet. I don't know why he is doing it."

"Maybe it has something to do with an upcoming celebration?" Marcella wondered.

"Make sense. I hear that he is engaged to Nikolla Holloway," the rogue trader replied.

"The prima ballerina?" the assassin asked. Ippo nodded.

"I did a bit of digging on her and I confirmed a theory about her and her strange occurrences. It turned out that Holloway is a psyker and a pretty powerful one at that. When I entered her apartment to discuss the ongoing occurrences around her, she panicked when she sensed my presence. The bitch tried to flee the building, and that was when I alerted my mother to the fact that she was unsanctioned," Marcella leaned back in her chair as she turned her head to look out the window.

Her eyes widened when she noticed the newest addition to the scene outside the window; an Inquisition rhino carrier; it disgorged several Stormtroopers, led by one Ruhr Foules. The man ordered the soldiers to shoot the bouncers guarding the entrance, before one team entered the building, while another cordoned off the building. The panicked shout of the partygoers pierced the air, as several people leapt off the rooftop patio to evade the Inquisitional raid. Many people were dragged out and forced to lie on the ground, while other begged for mercy, but got none.

"By the Emperor, are they who I think they are?" Marcella asked as she saw several purple-robed figures being dragged out of the building in chains.

"Yes," Ippo watched in shock.

Some of the cultists begun praising the Lord of Excess, but they were quickly dispatched by a single gunshot to the head. Others begged for mercy but they were swiftly killed as a result of their deviance. After the rest of the cult had been purged, the couple watched grimly as the building was blown up with hundreds of clubgoers trapped in it.

After the Inquisition had left the scene, all that was left of Club Aurora was a smouldering wreck.

* * *

 **A few days later**

The entire district was in a tizzy. The news that the hottest new club had been destroyed in an explosion quickly spread through many circles. Some were outraged that someone had the gall to destroy a club that was on the upswing, while others had whispered that there had been ongoing feuds between Club Aurora and another older, more established nightclub further down the street, called Meltdown.

' _These fools know nothing of the truth,'_ Marcella thought bitterly. _'They didn't even notice the frakking blacked out windows.'_

She knew it was only a matter of time before Meltdown's dark secrets would also come tumbling out, and when it occurred, this venue was doomed. The all too constant scrutiny of the Inquisition ensured that very few chaotic cults would get off easy. Even if the people willingly divulged the secrets of their cults to the Holy Ordos, they still got death because of their heretical actions.

"I recall one strip club that my idiot of a brother often frequented. The Inquisition had it purged a year after his death," Ippo noted, his voice grim.

"I foresaw Club Aurora's fate. Two days before the event occured I had a vision of a pink-clad woman being ravished by a daemonette. She seemed to enjoy it, but she was burned to death by the all-seeing eye along with the daemon.," Irri frowned.

"Nice way to sum it up, Irri," Syvas blew a raspberry.

"If I recall correctly the mascot of Club Aurora was a buxom blonde clad in a pink stola," Marcella noted, "I've seen her all over the district in the advertisements that the nightclub made."

"I recall that a few years there were rumors that the Belasco family in the Sephadollion sector was purged because of their close ties to some pleasure cult. A few members tried to flee the purge, but Imperial assassins hunted them all down and killed the frakkers," Renata leaned back in her chair in the living room.

"I'm not surprised by that fact. These fraktards are very persistent," Syvas agreed.

"Exactly. I recall that there was a quite old legend in the Gehenna Sector of a Vindicare hunting his quarry across three sectors over a time period of twenty years," Marcella noted, "The identity of his target is a highly classified secret of the Officio Assassinorum, but some stories had claimed that he was a powerful Chaos Lord, while others claim that he was a highborn heretic."

"I recall that a heretek from my homeworld had managed to evade the Callidus assassin following him for over fourty years," Hafza's mechadendrites twitched as she recalled the whole fiasco.

"REALLY!?," The rest of the crew shouted. Marcella and Ippo's jaws had dropped to the ground, while Renata and Syvas's eyes were as big as dinner plates. Dekko opened and closed his mouth, clearly speechless. Irri had a 'Whoa!' expression on her face.

"Yes. From what little I know of the tale, it turned that he had set up an elaborate ruse involving many of his underlings and that he used many of them as decoys. But he gradually grew sloppy and because of this fact it enabled her to strike the fool down," the tech-priestess replied.

* * *

Zhanti Hakunovy struggled against his restraints as he tried his damned to escape the torture chamber he was currently in. It had happened so fast; the week, before he was walking down the street with the love of his life Nikolla Holloway to the costume shop to pick up her costume for her solo routine, but a Rhino carrier from the Holy Ordos blocked the path to it. He had pulled her down an alley way, as he was determined to protect her from the Inquisition. This had resulted in a chase all over St. Antigone district, as the Militarium Tempestus searched for the young woman. The couple had managed to get to a spaceport and snuck on a shuttle heading to one of the mercantile vessels that would take them far away from Epsilon Regalis.

They had barely settled in their new quarters that they had obtained by bribing a corrupt official on the ship when the ship had its warp engines disabled as it was about to move into the Immaterium. The Stormtroopers begun searching every nook and cranny to locate Zhanti and Nikolla. They had moved around to evade these soldiers. When Nikolla had used her pyrokinesis to kill some of them with the intention to scare the rest away, they just brought in one member who was a psychic null. That person then moved in to secure her, while his inborn abilites neutralized any attempts that she had made to use her gifts.

She had been cruelly taken from him and placed in a cell on the other side of the Inquisitorial Black Ship. Zhanti had been determined to get to Nikolla, and this was why he tried many things to get out of his confines.

He had nearly succeeded in dislodging himself from his shackles, when he found himself staring up the barrel of a bolter pistol. The Inquisitor had a cruel sneer on his face as he pulled the man up and rebound him.

"I am Ruhr Foules of the Ordos Hereticus, and I have a few questions for you," the man introduced himself.

"Why did you sponsor Club Aurora?," The inquiry caught the actor off guard as he struggled against his shackles.

"I don't give a flying frak what you want, you ugly fraktard," he swore at the man.

Big mistake. Ruhr's face became even more sadistic, before he took out an electric prod and moved it in a threatening manner toward Zhanti's body. His eyes widened to a size akin to dinner plates.

But the actor resisted. He wouldn't divulge the secret deal that he had cut with the owners of Club Aurora that let the pleasure cult operate there in turn for half of the profits that came from the nightclub.

Ruhr then struck Zhanti with the prod, causing him to scream in pain. He repeated his question again, before he struck again and again with it.

Zhanti gritted his teeth as he endured the pain.

Ruhr sighed again before he moved on to the fourth level.

"Tell me why you sponsored the club or your love is going to be sacrificed to the Emperor," he threatened again. This broke Zhanti's resolve and he spilled everything. He had lent the money to the owners, he had explained because he saw a business opportunity and a way to break into the nobility. He just turned a blind eye to the cult because to him profits were more important than integrity.

"So it seems that your love of money got in the way," Ruhr snorted contemptuously, "I have a certain need of new subjects for arco-flaggellants and you prove to be the perfect candidate."

Zhanti panicked before he was sedated and carried away from the interrogation chamber.

* * *

 **Vaam Phusk**

Mitsuru Bechamel was absolutely petrified. The day before he had a very bad feeling that tomorrow was going to be the very last day of his life, ever. He had fled the building where he supervised the adeptus filing and sorting paperwork. He and his friends had planned to flee to the Eye of Terror to evade their inevitable fate.

It had all started when Bortinus had discovered a cache of tomes devoted to the Ruinous Powers. He had passed the books around to his friends. They had turned to the gods as they had found the restraints that the Imperial Cult had placed upon them to be very suffocating, and they had found a new freedom in the teachings of the 4. The Dark prince had encouraged many of his fellows to indulge in the most exquisite pleasures that life could offer them, while the Taker of Skulls encouraged others to exult in the joys of bloodshed. The Architect of Fate showed that all was malleable; the right pull or push could bring many transformational events, while the Great Father shown that even life could thrive under harsh circumstances.

Bechamel had joined the nascent cult as he felt that the Imperial cult was an illusory thing and that it blinded the masses to the harsh realities of life. He had planned to begin spreading the gospel to the sheep, but it had all come to a screeching halt when these godsdamned Inquisition jackasses had showed up. They had sent a veritable tornado of a killer into his workplace in to wipe the cult out, but he and his friends were determined to keep it alive at all costs. Even if it meant fleeing the planet entirely.

They had stolen away in the dead of night to a nearby spaceport, and once they had decided the best times to leave Vaam Phusk they had entered the shuttle. It had begun to lift off when that horrible killer had leapt on the tail end of the vehicle. The pilot, Vemnay Strabbhaus had swerved right and left in an attempt to shake off the killer. It was a success, but as the shuttle rose higher and higher, a precise shot to the engine destroyed it and sent the vessel into a tailspin.

"The gods preserve us all!" Mentar Sambard, a logister-comptroller screamed; Bechamel had silently agreed, while the other two shivered in fear. Venmay tried to control the rate of descent, but to no available, as the shuttle had crashed into a hab block that was being built.

The group of five split up to keep evading their pursuer. Bechamel moved through a series of alleyways, searching for a shuttle he could sneak onto; he heard Sambard scream. He kept moving through the maze of streets and alleyways, eventually finding a tram. He entered it, and pressed the button. It began moving, but suddenly halted. He saw that the horrible monstrosity had used his massive strength to stop the car.

The tram car was ripped off it wheels with Bechamel still in it. He was tossed around in it, bumping his head on one of the chairs, it caused a head wound that briefly disorientated him. Bechamel quickly shook off it and grabbed a knife hidden under another seat. He armed himself with it while he shivered in fear.

Oh, these horrible red eyes; they leered at them from a skull helm. The blood drenched body of his executor made feeling of revulsion well up in him, and he saw the severed head of Sambard. It was carried in the assassin's left hand, while the other hand carried an sword.

Béchamel screamed in terror as the blade inched ever closer to his neck. He watched in horror as his head was separated from his body, before the last sparks of life departed his brain.

* * *

Briar had watched grimly as CLXXI-XII had been returned to the stasis chamber that he was to reside in until his next mission. When the Eversor had informed him that the last five targets had been able to force him off the shuttle they were in; that was when he had ordered Dagon to move quickly. The Vindicare had obeyed his orders, sniping it. A precise application of a turbo-penetrator round to the engine had brought the shuttle down, and the group split up after the shuttle had crashed. They didn't get far. CLXXI-XII had moved just as quickly, killing the traitorous fools the moment they had crossed paths with the Eversor assassin.

The last member had tried to flee through the tramway. It was a good thing that assassins from the Eversor temple were able to run so quickly. CLXXI-XII had caught up to the tram car, ripped it off the track and he killed Bechamel while he was still trapped in it.

MCLXII-CII was still infiltrating the inner circle; She had voxed Briar and told him that the problem was more deeply entrenched than she thought. The woman was a relatively unusual operative; upon her first mission her divinatory gifts had woken entirely by accident when she was exposed to warp energies during a ritual. She had curled up in a fetal position after she had killed her objective, crying "Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!"

When the mumbling had subsided after Briar had sedated her, he had found cryptic scribblings alluding to future events. He had no choice to turn her over to the Adeptus Astra Telepathica for training and a swift sanctioning. The side effects of the event that she had received was that she had received hexagrammic wards on the roof of her mouth and she had lost half of her hair. Even now MCLXII-CII hated the fact that every time she discussed the four chaos gods it had taken her an extra ounce of willpower to say their actual names.

Her arsenal had to make room for a deck of Emperor's tarot cards. It was something that she had shared in common with Abel Foules, as being psykers both had to cope with troubling realities that set them apart from others.

All facts aside, she was an invaluable ally, with her unique skillsets, although with her abilities, past, present and future often merged in her mind and she had difficulty telling each one apart.

He walked away from the pod after it had been sealed.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Epsilon Regalis**

 **One year later**

Marcella Snow woke from her slumber, stretching with catlike grace. She giggled nervously as she stepped toward the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Today was her wedding day and she had butterflies in her stomach at the thought. She would be going down the aisle in front of twenty people, all close family and friends. After the fiasco at the engagement party that occurred when the young pariah fainted on stage, both her brother and Ippo agreed that Marcella would do much better if her wedding was limited to only the few people she knew.

She stripped off her plaid pajamas and underwear and entered the shower, turning on the hot water. Marcella then grabbed her shampoo and squeezed a liberal amount of it in her hand before she placed it on her head. She lathered it through her shoulder-length, working through the tangles in it before rinsing it off.

Marcella's thoughts turned to the events of the previous year. The torching of Club Aurora had resulted in protests by the locals of her district, but they were brutally supressed by the Arbites. She had also heard that the actor Zhanti Hakunovy had mysteriously vanished, along with his fiancée. The circumstances reeked of the Inquisition's work, because the man had sponsored Club Aurora's opening, as well as it day-to-day businesses. To add insult to injury, the fact that Ruhr Foules had caught wind of Nikolla Holloway's powers because of Marcella's decision to blabber to her mother about her observations, meant that the poor dancer would likely meet a very grisly fate on Holy Terra.

The assassin had noticed that the dancer wasn't as disciplined as a good psyker ought to be. She was particularly obsessive about her looks, and she often demanded the highest quality of workmanship in her clothing. Many of these clothing was quite expensive. Marcella's formal dress that she had worn at the engagement party waned in comparison to the haute couture that the ballerina had worn at red-carpet events all over the planet. Holloway also indulged in many recreational drugs, something her fiancé had encouraged, and it alarmed the assassin to no end. Marcella had heard graphic stories of psykers becoming possessed after ingesting forbidden drugs, and the aftermath of such events. Many of these who had been caught in the path of the host often wound up being ripped apart, burned, mind-controlled, crushed or even shot with unnatural accuracy. The daemons controlling these fools had often warped reality and sometime even summoned other daemons into realspace.

When such an event had occurred, it frequently wound up destroying the world in question if the Gray Knights hadn't arrived in time to stop the rampaging daemons. Although much of the records relating to these events were classified as per the orders of the Ordos Malleus, she had learnt about some of them during her instruction periods at the Fortress of the Soulless.

One notable event had occurred on a frontier world called Xenribas. A psyker son of the planetary governor, Antioch Henderson, had ingested a few mushrooms that had been proven to increase a person's sensitivity to the Immaterium. He had gotten possessed by a Keeper of Secrets soon after, and the events that had followed had wound up killing the populace of over four million. The Gray Knights had come to this world and brutally purged the possessed psyker and his cult, and afterwards the Ordos Malleus had declared Xenribas _Perditas_.

It was not lost upon Marcella that the upper class often shielded their psyker children with the purpose of furthering their ambitions; It never turned out well for the fools when the Inquisition found out about it. Irri Kelash's parents were no exception. They had paid dearly for their attempt to conceal their daughter.

She had heard that Zhanti Hakunovy had tried to withhold Nikolla Holloway from the Inquisition. She had assumed that he had paid the price for that as well as harboring a pleasure cult in Club Aurora. Whatever happened to him, she knew it would be unpleasant.

The assassin stepped out of her shower; stepping up to the vanity Marcella reached for her hairbrush. She brushed the tangles out of her hair then reached for her toothbrush. While she brushed her teeth, she could see that the dress she had picked out for her wedding day hanging on the hooks on the doors leading to the hallway.

It was a dropped-waist sleeveless dress with a boat neck and a high back. There was gold and black beading around the area where the handkerchief hem met the bodice, and it continued up another two inches before stopping with a single thick sequin trim. Marcella had found it priced approximately 40% off; the owner of the shop it was in had said that the client who had requested it be made had been murdered before she could wear it to her debut performance.

She had taken the deal; the dress needed a few alterations, though. The dress was made for a slightly wider body shape, so the seamstress had taken in the sides, as well raising the waist two or three inches to proportionally fit her small frame. The original pleated A-line floor-length skirt had been replaced with the newer knee-length skirt, and an ugly flower applique had been removed from the left side. That spot had been filled in with the beading pattern.

Marcella had chosen to accessorize it with a matching Juliet cap null-aura suppressing veil trimmed with black beaded lace and her grandma's garnet bangle that she received as a gift from her grandpa on her wedding day. The shoes she had chosen had been glittery gold T-strap shoes with 1-½-inch block heels. The operative had never understood why women chose to wear stiletto heels, even when they reached heights that made walking nearly impossible.

Her elder sister had been one such person. From what Marcella had recalled, she had seen that her sister's wardrobe had over fourteen pairs of the accursed shoes, all in various colors and styles. Some of the more egregious styles was over six inches tall in total, when the attached platform was included. Some of the pairs were encrusted with crystals, while a few others were over embellished messes with too much detailing that detracted from the shape of the shoes. It was a good thing that her parents had decided to cut Sirella off from their incomes after her forced wedding, as it meant that the bitch would not be able to buy more of these damned shoes.

They had assumed that to pay for the daily expenses of her new life, Sirella would be forced to sell off much of her expensive wardrobe, and it was hoped that the new routine of hard labor and daily prayers would keep her humble. The young woman never learned the lessons her parents had hoped she would absorb, as evidenced by the fact that she had murdered a fellow young woman in a last-ditch attempt to marry into the nobility. To add insult to injury it was rumoured that she had encouraged one of her husband's rivals to murder him in to climb the Imperial ladder. It was a miserable failure, as the commissar of the regiment both men were in had caught wind of the event, and he had ordered that the fool be reassigned to the penal legions.

The last images Marcella had seen of her sister was in a holo-recording; she had watched dispassionately as her sister bellowed angrily at her mother in it while she was forced upon the shuttle that would bring her to the penal barge. The assassin had assumed that her sister had been delivered to her new home on Clandenn II shortly afterwards.

* * *

Ippo looked upon the ensemble that he had carefully picked out for his wedding day. It consisted of charcoal wool pants that he had custom-tailored at a tailor that his bride's brother had personally recommended, and a new starched white shirt. Alongside these had been pieces that he had personally picked out of his own wardrobe. The first was a gray brocade vest that he had worn at the engagement party, while the knee-length carmine velvet coat was something he had worn at other formal events in the last few years. It had been embroidered with the Bellini family logo; a silver shooting star on a charcoal shield-shaped background.

He put on a pair of gray, white and brown argyle socks, before he put on each piece in succession. First came the pants, which he pulled up his legs, before he fastened the fly. He then put the white shirt on, tucking it in the aforementioned bottoms. He put the vest over the shirt, fastened the three bone buttons on it before he picked up the coat.

When Ippo had put on the coat he secured the cuffs with a pair of jade cufflinks that his own father had also worn at his own wedding. His own brother had tried to pawn them off to pay for his own vices, but Ippo had personally murdered the shop owner who had paid for them and took them back into his own care.

He sighed in annoyance at the thought. Forté Bellini was a vainglorious fool who viewed the galaxy as his own playground, and he often didn't recognize the possible consequences of his dalliances. The fact that the jackass had the gall to frequent a strip club run by a Slaaneshi cabal still angered Ippo, even sixteen years after his murder.

His father favored Forté over Ippo, even upon his own deathbed. Milori Andros Bellini had died fifteen years ago, as a direct result of a out-of-control sexually transmitted infection he had acquired from a high-class whore he had frequented in his last years. When Ippo had took over the first thing he had done was brutally purge much of his father and brother's favored servants by venting the fools out of the airlocks of the Graceful Star. The few survivors that remained on the ship had became indentured servants, being forced to work the worst jobs on it.

He combed his raven tresses before he tied them in a ponytail with a length of gray ribbon he had bought for a cheap fifty thrones at a nearby haberdashery store.

"Looking good, Ippo," Kevin Snow grinned as he leaded back against the threshold of the sleeping chambers that he was in.

"Thanks, Kev," He replied. The men walked down the hallways of the Snow estate. Marcella Snow had told him that the house had been given to her father as a reward for his service. It was modest compared to the other estates of powerful families he had seen. One building stood out in Ippo's mind and that was a massive octagonal estate of the late Severan dynasty. It had over 9,000 rooms, including a huge ballroom, an underground pool, several built-in pleasure parlours that once housed courtesans, and a huge dining room. He recalled that this palace was demolished after the downfall of the dynasty, and the land sold off to other people.

"Did you hear that Arebus Majorus was raided by Dark Eldar?" Kevin's question caught Ippo off guard.

"Yes. Nearly one-thirds of the populace were carried off," he replied, "My astropath foresaw it in her visions."

"Really!?" Kevin's shocked reply irked him.

"Yes. She's a powerful diviner. When she was fourteen she foretold an heiress's marriage. The resulting fallout of this event was devastating," Ippo sighed.

"How?" Kevin asked as he put his hands on his hips.

"The girl committed suicide after the birth of her only son. She had been broken mentally and spiritually by the prophecy she was given," Ippo answered.

"That reminds me of something… my parents once said that knowing the future is a burden. That any attempts to prevent it leads to more disaster than success," Kevin noted as the two men stepped into the foyer.

"Very true, my friend. Very true," Ippo laughed bitterly.

* * *

It had come upon just as suddenly just it had been with many of Irri Kelash's visions. She saw a silver falcon flying within a shroud of darkness. It begun to clash with a golden double-headed eagle. It circled each other before both struck out at each other. Shen then saw the skeletal visage of the Emperor laughing as the falcon killed him, then what once was light had become all-compassing darkness. It was soon followed by the dying cries of the four dark gods as they struggled to stop their demise.

She then saw a gold light coalescing in the webway.

"I am Revelations," it told her, "The star of grace will play an important part in the events to come. The all-seeing eye of the Holy Ordos shall lose its way. The members shall try to stop the Imperium's demise, but what they will do is hasten it.

The death of the Emperor is necessary to bring about my birth. You will be the guide that will bring your friends to me."

Irri was promptly shook out her trance by Renata. Hafza and Marcella stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

"I had a vision. I don't understand much of it," she sighed.

"Can you describe it," Hafza asked.

"I saw two birds fighting. One was a silver falcon and the other a gold double-headed eagle. I then saw the white falcon killing the Emperor, but what was odd about this scene that he was laughing. The light became all consuming darkness. The dark gods fought their demise but they died, one by one. I then saw a gold light coalescing in the webway," the astropath replied.

"The symbol of the Federation is a silver falcon, so that's one down," Marcella crossed her arms in contemplation.

"And the aquila is obvious," Hafza added.

The women mulled over the golden light. This part was one of the most mysterious of the vision Irri had seen. What did it mean for the Graceful Star?

* * *

The Christine Justubos Memorial Park's paths was fairly long, although narrow. They winded leisurely around the circular center, before meeting it head on. In the paved circle, there was a single two-tiered fountain, while three benches sat at the edges. He was waiting for Marcella; Both had agreed that the first look was a good idea to allay their nervousness.

"It's good to see you, Ippo," Marcella walked into the park with catlike grace that she had acquired from her training.

"You, too." He chuckled. The two embraced, before they let out laughs.

While their photographer, a young man in his late thirties clicked away taking pict-snaps of the happy couple as the two posed and embraced, Ippo took the opportunity to broach the conversation.

"I have been hearing rumors that the backstabbing in the Adeptus Administrium have worsened," he said.

"I heard the same exact thing," Marcella nodded, "The most extreme logical outcome of this state of affairs would be a widespread civil war in the Administrium."

"And these adepta aren't as reliable as they used to be," Ippo replied, "I wouldn't trust them to do the necessary work of filing everyday stuff."

"There have been allegations of misplaced records and mix-ups that have seriously affected planets in the Segmentum Obscurus," Marcella frowned in distaste, "The Inquisitor Ruhr Foules told me about the Foremanus System."

"What happened?" The rogue trader asked.

"Most of it is classified, but he told me that the destruction was caused by a misfiling in the Adeptus Adminstrium," she replied.

"I recall that some mix-up in the Ixaniad Sector led to assets being delivered to the wrong battleground a few decades ago. A Death Korps regiment requested a replacement commissar, but they got a bunch of Leman Russ tanks that an Inquisitional Stormtrooper regiment had requested. That bunch had gotten the commissar," Ippo regaled his tale as Marcella listened, enthralled.

"The Inquisition must've been quite pissed about that frak-up," Marcella noted.

"They were. When the mix-up was traced to some nameless scrivener on some agri-world, they had him executed," He agreed.

The clock overlooking the park ticked; it was a signal to the couple that it was time to enter the shrine where their wedding ceremony was to be held.

* * *

The Ecclesiarchy shrine Dekko Rittorzi stood in was fairly small and obscure; It had been privy to billions of marriages over the centuries it had been in service. Most of them were commoners, but occasionally it had hosted one of a noble. Most of these upperclassmen had chosen this place because they were laying low as a result of an event causing some unwelcome scrutiny.

It also had a colorful history that was intertwined with the Holy Ordos. The cloister started out as a small Adepta Sororitas branch in M41.671, but it was abandoned after a Dark Eldar raid in M41.686. The entire budding order had been carried off, including the canoness herself. It then became a hideout for a nascent Imperial death cult, before Khornate worship subverted its purposes. A harsh inquisitional raid had wiped out this heretic bunch sometime in the early seventh century of the fourty-first millennia. The place laid abandoned and in disrepair before some Ministorum priest found it. He purified the place, repaired the damage, and set it up as a place of worship. A nearby chaos cult sent assassins to kill him, but it wound up exposing the leader of the aforementioned bunch to an Inquisitor of the Ordos Hereticus. He then brought in the Adepta Sororitas and a few arcoflaggents to raid the neighbouring building it was in; the cult was wiped out, with a couple of stragglers fleeing the planet. They didn't get far; he had sent a Callidus assassin after them and she impersonated a fledging cult member before she dispatched them skillfully.

In M41.829 the infamous heretic Mentar Pavelec, a staunch liberal that had been gathering popularity among all segments of Epsilon Regalis' populace, was tipped off by one of his advisors that a Vindicare was on his way to kill him. He hatched a cunning plan to evade this operative. He planted two of his associates as decoys in the more well-known Saint Ardennia Basilica, and moved his actual wedding here. The fool had hoped that the Vindicare would not notice that he had been fooled, but this operative was experienced enough to figure out Pavelec's tricks. He chose to lay in wait for Pavelec's personal shuttle to rise, before he had swiftly sniped it. The round he had fired had brought it down, with all the occupants dying in the resultant crash, including Pavelec and his new bride. That story had been passed from person to person through word of mouth in the years that had elapsed since the actual event had occurred.

The shrine had thirty-six pews arranged in rows of three in the nave, while the aisles were roughly three feet wide from column to wall. The pews could seat four people in it, although it was quite a close fit. The iconostasis behind Dekko depicted the Emperor on the large doors leading to the sanctuary, while the images surrounding it were of the nine loyalist primarchs. Next to these images were various smaller paintings of various Imperial saints, including Saint Celestine and Saint Drusus.

In front of the door were a small table and a chuppa; it was somewhat simple, being four wooden pillars supporting a cheap dyed red cloth. It had been taken out of one of the closets in the room next to the sanctuary and carried there. Marcella Snow had chosen the red cloth to match the theme of red, champagne and charcoal palette that was being carried through the wedding. She had settled on a low-budget wedding because she felt that a big, expensive wedding was not her style.

"The bigger the wedding, the shorter the marriage," her mother had added in her observations as she helped set up the decorations.

"I've noticed that couples who often spend their money on lavish weddings often wound up being divorced after a few years," Dekko had replied.

"My elder daughter, Sirella, wanted a huge, expensive wedding to a nobleman. I made her marry an Imperial guard lieutenant instead, and cut her off from our family income. She didn't learn from the experience, but chose to murder an actress to get into the nobility," the Arbites sighed.

"The upper hive is a den of vipers," Dekko noted, "Your decision was wise. I doubt the bitch could withstand the constant backstabbing and lying in the nobles' court."

"She coveted money and luxury above everything. In that opinion, I believe that she was a potentially corruptible subject," Myrcella nodded in agreement, "When I talked with Ruhr Foules at lunch a few months ago, I told him about my concerns regarding Sirella and the actions that I have taken to safeguard her soul from the taint of Chaos. He called upon his diviner to show me what would have become of her if I hadn't intervened.

She would have become ensnared within one of the many pleasure cults brimming within the fringes of nobility. This process would had gradually twisted her soul to the point of no return, and she would have become chaos spawn or more likely, be killed in one of the many purges that the Inquisition coordinate to get rid of such threats."

"Not to mention the potential taint would have spread to your family," Dekko agreed.

The twenty guests that had answered the invites gradually filtered into the building, taking seats in the pews. They chattered about the upcoming festivities and about various miscellaneous topics of interest.

The music began, and the processional begun; the first entrance was a little flower girl that couldn't be more than four years old. She skipped happily down the aisle before she sat down next to her mother. The ringbearer, her younger brother, threw a temper tantrum at the door and had to be taken into another room.

Then came Ippo's best man, Syvas Brondell. He had selected him as a witness for the signing of the marriage register, while Marcella had chosen Renata. He was clad in a dashing navy blue tux, and he had his ever-constant red headband tied around his head.

Renata came in next, clad in her pine green dress from the engagement party. She stood opposite Syvas and giggled at something in her head that she found funny.

Ippo Bellini and Marcella Snow walked down the aisle together, with their arms enmeshed together. They entered the canopy and faced each other, as they held each other's hands. Dekko could see the lovey-dovey expressions on both of their faces; Marcella had a bright blush on her face while Ippo gazed with love toward his new bride.

"On this day, we gather to witness the holy matrimony of Scevola Ippolito Angelino Bellini and Marcella Snow. Ever since the day they met on the Graceful Star their lives have become intertwined with each other.

This journey begun with an escape pod. It was a temporary sanctuary for Marcella from the vile xenos that we know as the Dark Eldar. They swooped upon the ship she was on and took everybody. Only she could escape. I shudder to think of the unimaginable tortures that the people on that ship is currently undergoing.

When the Graceful Star came upon it brought her hope, and It was in that moment that Ippo saw her for what she was, a person who have lost everything she knew. He took her in and helped her rebuild what was left of her shattered life. He gave her clothing, food and shelter, and in turn she rewarded him with her loyalty, and her love.

Ippo didn't view her as a weapon, as many in the Imperium usually do. She is a human being, with thoughts and desires. She chose to remain with Ippo because she has terrible nightmares of that day, something that sadly is a common concern among many survivors of Dark Eldar raids. I have personally counselled many survivors like her and they all bear mental scars of such events.

Now let the ceremony begin," Dekko's word echoed through the voxcaster speakers as he stood at the lectern.

He moved to the chuppah; signalling for the organs to begin soft musical overtures, he led the congregation in an ancient hymn that dated from before the Great Crusade.

" _Where shall my wondering soul begin?_ _  
_ _How shall I all to heaven aspire?_ _  
_ _A slave redeemed from death and sin,_ _  
_ _A brand plucked from eternal fire,_ _  
_ _How shall I equal triumphs raise,_ _  
_ _Or sing my great deliverer's praise!"_

After it had been sung, Dekko begun his sermon.

"Marriage is a sacred union between two people. It is an extremely fragile one that require constant maintenance. For it to last, both parties entering in it must be on equal footing.

Trust is a vital part of a good and long-standing marriage. I have seen marriages crumble because both parties don't trust each other. One noble marriage my mentor presided over years ago, became a den of backstabbing and manipulation because both parents were skilled liars and they never trusted each other ever since they met. They constantly betrayed each other to gain dominance, and it was only when the eldest daughter came of age that she permanently put an end to their games. This woman paid two assassins to kill her parents, and the attempts succeeded in putting an end to their wretched lives.

Yet other marriages ended because one partner betrayed the other's trust. A few years I had the dubious honor of presiding over the wedding of a young girl to her much older cousin. He had promised to wait until she was of age, but on their wedding night he betrayed her by raping her. She told me and I submitted the request to annul that marriage because the foolish bastard had broken that promise.

Trust must go both ways. If one partner says no, the other partner must respect his or her wishes. They must be willing to tell each the whole truth, even if it hurt the other's feelings. Lies serve to drive a wedge in a couple, and with each utter of falsehoods, a nail in the coffin is driven into the relationship.

It is vital to communicate in a relationship. Trust crumbles when a couple doesn't communicate properly. They must be willing to divulge their happiness, their sorrows and their problems. And if one member of this couple has problems, it becomes the responsibly of both to address it.

I recall that one woman I met was addicted to obscura. His husband was an enabler and he often purchased drugs instead of focusing on their three children. The other two were taken in by a neighbour after the youngest died of starvation at one year old. It was an appalling waste of life, for two parents to neglect their offspring in favor of drugs.

Marriage is something is not to be taken lightly. It is both a burden and a blessing."

The sermon was followed by the seven blessings, with each one recited by a family member. The first was spoken by Kevin Snow, while Ethan Snow and a cousin recited the next two blessings. The third and fourth blessings were recited by Myrcella Tyrell and Kevin Snow's wife, while the last three were spoke in joint by Marcella's parents.

Syvas Brondell then passed the wedding rings from his pocket to Dekko before he returned to his position. The priest gave the rings to the couple.

"Speak now or hold forever your peace," He exhorted. This was a stop-gap measure as the Imperium's record-keeping had became quite untrustworthy in the last few centuries. It was common to find instances of bigamy and misrepresentation in the marriage archives, and there were a few fraudulent marriage records here and there, aimed at discrediting potential power-players that the nobility wanted excluded from their inner circles. These often didn't work as the person in question often manipulated events to cause a family's downfall. The massacred families of M41.883 were no exception. The Caldwells had forged a marriage certificate claiming that the planetary governor at that time practiced bigamy and they would have eventually planted it in the archives if it wasn't for AMX-002's guns eviscerating the entire family that New Year's Eve. Another family was killed in a brutal Inquisitional raid after their rival, an adepta had planted evidence of Chaotic worship in their manor; he had discovered evidence of a forged marriage certificate in his name and decided to retaliate against them by turning their dirty tricks against them.

No one objected. Dekko breathed out a sigh of relief before he proceeded to the next stage, the exchange of vows.

"Do you take this woman as your lawful wedded wife, in health and in sickness, in joy and sadness and life and death?" He asked Ippo.

"Yes," The rogue trader nodded. He then slipped his bride's wedding ring on her ring finger, causing her to blush a fuchsia pink.

"Do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband, in health and sickness, in joy and sadness and life and death?" This query was then directed toward Marcella.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. Her new husband's ring was then slipped on his ring finger.

After the signing of the marriage register was complete, it was time to announce the couple.

"I present to you Scevola Ippolito Angelino and Marcella Bellini," He announced while the crowd cheered in celebration. The happy couple walked down the aisle, while the revellers threw confetti upon them. They exited the sanctuary doors before heading to the cheap hovercar that they had rented for the day and drove off.

* * *

The revelries had died down a few hours earlier, and now Marcella & Ippo stood at the door of their hotel room. It had been booked a few days earlier. From what the couple knew of it, this hotel wasn't among the seedy ones usually found in the outskirts of the hive or the ultra-expensive ones that the wealthy usually rented.

"Is this one ours?" Marcella gestured to the number plate. it read 102.

Ippo checked the numbered tag tied to the key he had in his hand. The number was a match. He unlocked the door, only for Marcella's face to turn pale when she opened the door.

There, sitting in one of the chairs was one Denton Briar.

He was clearly angry with her, as evidenced by his posture. His hands were crossed across his chest and his eyes had an intense glare that made Marcella flinch.

"What was the big idea, gallivanting across the galaxy without reporting in to your superiors? And returning to your family home without permission!?" He jabbed his finger at her, "And why did you decide to marry this clown!?"

"I took her as a wife because she was the only one the Snow family deemed suitable," Ippo answered truthfully.

"One of my cousins is a bat-shit crazy death-cultist assassin who wound up being a danger to other people. She was sent to a sanitarium a few years ago," Marcella admitted, "My older sister is in the penal legions, and another cousin has been written off as KIA."

"Her brother had arranged this marriage as a way of bringing this alliance closer," Ippo added again," he married one of my relatives and in turn I was to marry her."

"I absolutely don't approve of this situation at all. I must confirm these factors you described," He sighed in annoyance, "The problem with this kind of marriage is compromised secrecy. Normally I would have signed orders that annulled your marriage immediately upon learning of it. But Lord Inquisitor Thrawn Eisenhorn overruled it when I brought up the subject. He is currently reviewing the terms of your marriage contract."

"Oh, great. A _ghost marriage_ , how _nice_ ," Marcella's sarcastic comment about the annulment part angered Briar, and he had to resist the urge to slap her across the face for her impudence.

"I have brought over the equipment as you have requested, Briar," one of the handlers that he had brought along to deal with this little errand walked into the room, carrying a crate. He placed it on the floor and took off the lid. Inside it was a new synthskin suit, several psyk-out gernades and Marcella Snow's own Animus Speculum, which she had chucked into the salvage piles of the Scintilla hive a few weeks ago.

The wayward assassin rolled her eyes in derision, much to Briar and Ippo's annoyance.

"Get in your synthskin suit, now," Briar snapped at Marcella.

"Frak you," she swore back, staying put beside her new husband.

"This is no time to indulge in childish behavior, XXXIV-IX. Go and change into your field equipment!"

"I have to agree, Marcella. Defying an inquisitor has serious consequences. I've seen some of my fellow trader censured for their foolishness. Please obey him for now. I will try to negotiate with this Eisenhorn fellow to secure a permanent release for you," Ippo turned to Marcella as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Ok, I'll go get changed," she told him, clearly annoyed with him.

She picked up the synthskin and entered the bathroom.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 18**

 **On the Dutiful Reaver**

Ippo Bellini looked out the windows of the office overlooking the nearby training area. His new wife was being put through a series of gruelling routines aiming to bring her up to the Officio Assassinorum's exacting standards. In the years since he had rescued her, she had let her training slip in favor of spending time with the Graceful Star's crew, including him. He could recall that when he had visited Marcella's quarters he had spent hours with her in idle chitchat, sometime about her interests in Imperial law, and at other times about current affairs.

He could recall that one time at a party celebrating Ascension Day, the entire crew had drunk too much amasec, and everyone were splayed out on the couches or floors. Marcella had chosen to wrap her arm around his thigh, and she then used it as a pillow while she passed out. The following hangover was just as equally bad; they had all spent hours on the toilets repeatedly barfing the following morning. His now-mother-in-law was furious with all of them, because they had inadvertently ruined one of the living rooms and the crew had to clean it up after they had gotten over their alcohol-induced sickness.

Marcella was currently doing a series of unarmed combat drills under the supervision of the trainers from the Officio Assassinorum. At this moment, she kicked a servitor to the side with a vicious kick, before she rolled under another servitor's leg. Turning her back on it, she then snapped its neck before she drained it of its life-force. She then pulled off a series of cruel strikes at a group of clustered captured heretics, all armed with pocket knifes. Each one died instantly as her touch drained them of their energies. They dropped dead, completely emaciated shadows of what they once were.

Another three men, all brought over from a nearby penal barge, charged her. Marcella just pulled off a roundhouse kick that totally snapped their spines, before she strangled two with her synth-skin covered hands. She then ripped the third man's head from his spine and tossed it against a wall, shattering it in a gory mess of brain matter and blood.

After she had completed this drill, she looked up to the window and waved to Ippo, a bright pink blush on her delicate face. The trainers were clearly not impressed with this display of emotion. They would normally have hypno-indoctrinated her the way they had done with Dagon Lachirus once his daughter turned five years old, but Thrawn Eisenhorn had halted their plans.

Ippo turned to the aforementioned Inquisitor. He was a fairly tall individual with ebony skin and large lips. His nose was hooked, and his eyes and hair were concealed under a brown hood that was emblazoned with the Inquisitional rosette.

His wardrobe was utilitarian, with touches of carmine and brass in the belt buckles and the carapace armour he wore. Holstered at his hip was a high-quality bolter, while a sheath held a force sword.

"I know that Briar wants to keep her on a short leash, but I've foreseen events that require that she be under your care," The man crossed his arms in contemplation as he watched her go through her paces.

"What kind of events?" Ippo's questions was promptly answered by a raised hand from Eisenhorn.

"There will come a day when the Imperium's bones will have been rotten away by the stagnation and political corruption in its ranks. It will be that at this time that Chaotic infiltration will be at an all-time high. When the Chaotic forces kill the Emperor it shall be that on this day that a terrible entity will be born. A god of order and stability, but also oppression and stagnation. The fallout of this event will be devastating, even eclipsing the Segmentum Solar. A mysterious entity called Revelations showed me that the Imperium already is creating the necessary emotional resonance to birth such a god," he noted.

"I've heard that truths could be just as easily forgotten as falsehoods are created," Ippo replied.

"I've lost count of how many people were corrupted by the lies of Chaos," Eisenhorn sighed wistfully, "I once had an interrogator turn to Chaos because he believed the seductive lies of the four Ruinous powers."

"What do you intend to do with this vision?" the rogue trader's eyes focused on his wife, still going through her exercises.

"Revelations showed me that the Federation may be one of many key players that may or may not prevent this event from passing, although they do not have the answers we want to hear. They will only give us the truths we need to learn," he answered, "the solutions to our problems lies somewhere."

Now this was getting too mysterious. Ippo's head throbbed at the cryptic conversation he had just had. He sighed. Even if he tried to wrap his head around the words that Eisenhorn had just uttered, the rogue trader would come to mull this over for years.

* * *

Marcella sighed for the umpteenth time as she wiped the blood off her hands. She had thrice tried to sneak away from the trainers' watchful eyes to go spend time with Ippo, but each time they had caught up to her before she could initiate interaction with her husband.

The first time she had attempted this action, they had quickly tackled her as soon as she had reached the door of the room where Ippo was staying in for the duration of the visit on Thrawn Eisenhorn's flagship. The second time, they had noticed her and locked the doors leading out of the training chambers. The third time she had used the vents to reach his room. Marcella was about to begin making out with him when they were rudely interrupted by these jackasses and she had been dragged back to the frakking room where she now stood.

Judging by their posture, they were quite angry at her for defying their orders. They had caned her for each infraction, and after the last time Marcella had gave up hope of sharing some romantic alone time with her husband. She had privately admitted that a lot of it had been borne out of a desire to waste time pointlessly kissing and fucking her husband.

Each drill she had gone through had been taxing. First was one hundred-fifty laps around the track, all at her top speed, followed by the obstacle course from hell. She had completed it, but the trainers had her going through it four more times, turning up the difficulty each time. It was followed by a series of combat drills that she balked at, but their prodding had overruled her feelings.

She then went through a series of scenarios testing her cunning and skills, each one were more challenging than the last. She had succeeded in all of them, although the fraktards had understood that her failed mission was thanks to the Dark Eldar's interference. They had grudgingly acknowledged that the vile xenos had plans to capture her, most likely for sport. Marcella had been among the few lucky ones who had successfully evaded capture and thus the possibility of being taken to Comorragh.

The Deathwatch would also later confirm the fates of Inquisitor Methos, her original custodian and handlers' decades later after a series of precision strikes aimed at crippling the Kabals of the Withered Hand and the Skewering Feather.

Her training was done for now. Thrawn Eisenhorn's voice on the room's voxcaster had signalled the fact, and as she slinked toward the female changing room, her muscles had screamed with pain from the gruelling training regime she had gone through.

After a quick shower she was about to change into her usual wardrobe of a crop top and leggings, along with her gray boots, but the instructions that Briar had written in her locker told her that she was to keep wearing her synthskin suit. Marcella defied it anyways, putting on the clothing and her pariah aura-suppressing googles. She planned to wait in Ippo's room for him and kick-start their delayed consummation of their marriage.

She had just seated herself in one of the chairs; the fact that she was doing it just to irk Briar wasn't lost upon Ippo when he had entered the chamber.

"Marcella, what are you doing here?" He asked her, but she launched herself at him. Wrapping her arms around him, she began with a chaste kiss on his lip. He laughed nervously before he responded, running his hands through her hair. She nibbled at his lips, begging for entrance, before he opened it. Marcella inserted her tongue in him, tasting every inch, before she let his tongue into hers. The two had just began caressing each other's neck and shoulders when a hard knock reverberated on the door.

"Oh, great, Briar is probably at the door," Ippo sighed as he got up and opened the door. The Ordos Sicarious Inquisitor entered the room; when he took one look at Marcella's outfit, he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Your. Synthskin. Suit. Now!" his orders had a steely undertone that spoke of his anger. Marcella sighed again as she returned to the changing rooms to change back in her suit. After she had done so, she then found herself being escorted to a briefing room alongside her husband.

When Marcella found herself being seated alongside Dagon Lachirus, she could see that without his spy mask on, he bore a strong resemblance to his daughter, with raven hair that he kept in a buzzcut. His eyes were a cold gray, although his offspring had bright blue eyes. Their face shapes were also very similar, with narrow faces and aqualine noses, while their eyes were downturned.

"I can see the family resemblance," she told him; he nodded silently.

"Me too," Ippo murmured.

Marcella looked over to where Briar was seated; he had a sour expression on his face.

"Is it me or has he _drunk_ a pint of _orange juice_?" her sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by the Vindicare; he raised an eyebrow.

"Or _swum_ in a pool of _sunshine_?" Ippo snorted.

"Maybe he needs some _anti-constipation meds_ ," Julores snickered as she entered the room, taking up the seat next to her father.

Thrawn Eisenhorn followed behind the young woman, before he locked the door behind him.

A holomat servitor began projecting the image of a planet. It had three large continents surrounded by several smaller islands. The polar caps were non-existent. There were two small hive cities sprawled in the north landmass, while two of the islands held another three.

"Epsicillon II is a pleasure and agri-world; Recently it has come to our notice that a powerful psyker has usurped control of an entire district in Hive Finchley. Your- "

"Oh, _great_! The _first thing_ I _need_ is a _frakking_ mission," Marcella's sarcastic interruption earned her a sharp bop in the head from an irritated Dagon.

"Shut your mouth," he snarled at her.

Briar's glare spoke of his disapproval of her behaviour. The wayward operative squirmed in her seat under his gaze.

"Your sarcasm isn't helping matters, Marcella," Ippo reminded her.

Marcella rolled her eyes, before she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"I'm listening," she huffed in annoyance.

"As I said earlier your objective is to infiltrate the building and kill him; His name is Cassius Kôlsch, and we have estimated him to be roughly high Beta level to low Alpha. He is a powerful telepath and diviner," Briar explained.

"I've heard rumors about the Kôlsch family a few months ago," Marcella answered, "Seems that the firstborn son was seeking to add new girls to his collection of indentured courtesans."

"I heard about it, too," Dagon.

"I recalled that the brothel he runs was called the Perfumed Lily. It was a haven for high-priced prostitutes. Every five years the place abducts winning girls from beauty pageants it hosts annually; these girls then are groomed to become sexual performers for Epsicillon II's elite," Ippo added, "I was invited to the place but turned it down. Somebody bragged to me that he won an auction for a 13-years-old's virginity at her debut."

"What was his name," Julores's question caught Ippo off guard.

"Telemachus," he replied.

"I've heard that Cassius hated Telemachus. There's rumours that it has something to do with an event in his childhood that damaged the subject's trust in his elder brother," Marcella added.

"Maybe the mind-controlled people in the hive is a way to strike back at Telemachus and his associates," Julores chimed in.

"Maybe it is a better idea to ask first than just offing the fool?" Marcella crossed her arms.

"You are to kill him first and foremost," Briar answered, "But if you come across evidence that proves Telemachus Kôlsch is culpable in hiding heresy, then bring Cassius in alive."

"Yes, Inquisitor," Marcella bowed her head, before she picked up her Animus Speculum.

* * *

 _ **Epsicillon II**_

 _ **Three months later**_

Cassius Kôlsch could still recall the screaming rusted hinges of his dungeon; the chamber that his father had put him in when he was four years old. The man was a sadistic fool; he enjoyed flaying the skins of his courtesans and wearing their skins. He was also fond of the most expensive liquor and he often requested dishes of cooked human babies. Cassius had personally rescued a few of them from their grim fate; as a result he was sent to this room.

He could recall what Telemachus had done to him. It had left him a cowering mess of a boy, and he hated and feared the bastard. The screaming hinge. The door. The PAIN. The PAIN!

He wrote in his journal.

 _I hate Telemachus. That frakking pedophile. He thinks himself a god among men but I see what he is, a monster tethered to the Lord of Excess as my father was and still is. They follow the most depraved practice, unaware that with their dalliance come a price exacted upon their souls. To please this abomination of a god, they must cause their world to slide into depravity alongside them. And this is what I fear._

 _To stop this act, I have taken over an entire district's minds. I plan to slay this cult while it is in it nascent stages. But afterward I know that my death won't be a merciful one as I have captured the Inquisition's attention._

 _But to the one who come to kill me. Please end my pain. My life has been an cascading series of horrors. Being raped by my brother. The tortures by my father. Seeing one of my siblings being killed for meat._

 _Death is a mercy compared to these events._

 _Cassius_

He stood up from his desk. Ripping the page out of his red journal he placed it on the window and opened it ajar. Walking down the hallways of the abandoned apartment cluster, he looked over the crowds that he psychically controlled. Today was the day he would use them to break down the walls of the Kôlsch estate and expose the depraved family for what THEY really were.

Turning to the door that led to the chambers that held one of his shackled brothers, this one the thirdborn of his father's loins. The man had been in sensory deprivation for at least a month. The room smelled of feces and vomit.

Cassius drove a series of mental lances through the man's mind, causing him to scream in pain. He then planted nightmarish images of the planet's demise in the man's mind, before he quickly fried his victim's brain with one last burst of psychic lightning.

Leaving the room, he then collected the crude focus staff he had created the month before.

* * *

 _M41.999/12/06_

 _I still remember the day that my frakking father ate my baby sister. I tried to save her, but it was too late. She had died in the cauldron. I saw the fraktard chow down on her as if she was another meal. The man is despicable, taking pleasure in the devouring of infants. I fear what he will do to other people once he turns his attentions upon them._

 _Today I watched as a small boy was slowly tortured to death. My father's associates slowly removed his organs one by one while keeping him alive and awake, the poor thing. He begged and screamed, but the monsters laughed at the boy's pain._

 _This is beyond disturbing. I must find a way to contact the Inquisition._

 _M42.001/04/12_

 _Telemachus tortured and raped me again. I hate what he constantly does to me. He views me as his own plaything, and I feared him for the last ten years. The fact that he has begun worshipping the same god as father is disturbing in it own right, as the moment one give their souls to the Four Powers of Ruin, they damn themselves. I can hear voices whispering to me that power could be mine, if I hand over control to them._

 _I have said no to every one so far, as I am afraid of what would happen if I sold my soul to them._

 _M42.003/04/29_

 _One of my older sisters has given herself over to become a host of the Neverborn. She was an ambitious soul, always hungering for knowledge, even if it is forbidden. The cult she is in chose her because she is one of the most insanely devoted to the Architect of Fate's grand designs. However, I had a vision of her eventual fate. She and her cult will be devoured by a great black void, and all will not escape._

 _M42.003/06/25_

 _The vision of my sister has come true! Her emaciated body, along with sixteen others in similar states were found in the lair where they were hiding out. I know that whatever happened to her, it all goes back to that void._

 _I saw another void chasing me in my dreams. At first, I was terrified of it, but after father tortured me in my room, I found the quick death of the void preferable to his cruelty._

The moment that Marcella Snow had snuck into the building through an ajar window, she had found a note from her target begging her to kill him. He had explained that his family had fallen into depravity, and that he was going to expose the Kôlsch family. Once she had found this journal, she had found it disturbing because it had detailed events of sexual abuse, torture and cannibalism.

He had repeatedly mentioned that there was a cult going on in the compound, and she had suspicions that it was Slaaneshi-related. When she had voxed Briar about her findings and sent him pict-snaps of the journal page, he immediately cussed.

She had decided that Cassius Kôlsch would be a big help in exposing the rest of the corrupted family, though. The operative moved through the building her target was in, collecting bits and pieces of evidence to deliver to Briar.

She had her objective; this subject was to be captured alive.

"Please, please get out of MY HEAD! NO-," she ran toward the voice. Her target apparently was trying to fight off a daemonic possession, judging from his scream. She dashed through the hallways, throwing knives at guards that tried to stop her with pinpoint precision. The huge doors that she arrived at were approximately twelve foot high. It had once been painted a bright sky blue, but the years of wear and tear had faded it to a frosty white. It had an image of an azure blossom held up by two nude nymphets, while the floral border encircling it was peeling off in some places. The indecency of this image was exacerbated by the fact that the girls looked to be barely pubescent.

On the morning that commenced the beginning of this mission, Marcella had been found entangled around her husband's body; she had obviously snuck out of her quarters on the Graceful Star and made her way to his room. The fact that she had sexual intercourse with Ippo was not lost upon her trainer; he had lashed her several times for her disobedience.

He was also annoyed with Syvas Brondell's antics. The Catachan's tendency to jest about things was something that Marcella enjoyed greatly, but it wasn't lost upon the operative that the man shot scathing glares in Syvas's direction every time he made a one-liner. One of his best jokes involved a techpriest, a face full of xeno wing-wong and a bunch of mysterious eggs.

Marcella pushed aside one door; she saw her target hunching over in pain. He clutched at his head, rocking from side to side.

"NO, NO, NO!," Kôlsch screamed, before he grew a beak on his face. The skin on his face quickly morphed into feathers, while his feet split into talons.

"Oh, _great_! The first thing I _need_ is a frakking _Lord of Change_ bursting into the body of my objective," her biting remark promptly attracted Thrawn Eisenhorn's attention.

"Can you send the footage to us, Snow?" Marcella complied, while muttering colorful curses under her breath. Some of them were certainly not appropriate for polite company. She had lost count of how many time her mother had chided her for her potty mouth.

She could clearly recall one time when she was eight, she had told a man to 'Sit your ass down on that armchair and DRINK YOUR EMPEROR-DAMNED TEA!'; The look on the face of her mom had spoken volumes to the young girl of her anger. She had wound up being locked in her room for one and a half days for that instance of misbehavior. Syvas had also admitted saying the same exact thing in polite company; His mother had literally washed his mouth out with soap.

The Lord of Change cackled as he stood up.

"This body was worth it to break," He moved toward the door; Marcella readied her psykout grenade. Hurling it at the daemon, he was thrown off balance by the burst of negative energies. He hurled a flurry of warp-fuelled energies at her in return, and the female assassin opened her pariah aura to it highest level. The projectile fizzled harmlessly as soon as it had reached, only to be absorbed by her Animus speculum.

"Hey you! You pretty cockatoo, coming here to preen yourself in your cage?" She snorted, dodging a chair thrown at her telekinetically.

"Why..YOU!"

"You fight like a magical unicorn," she replied back, while hurling another psykout grenade. It hit her target, drastically weakening the daemon.

The demon bellowed angrily, hurling off several projectiles that hit a few columns of the room they were in. It caused sections of the roof to cave in, blockading sections of it off from the room.

It tackled her, but as soon as it had grabbed her, Marcella took the opportunity to focus her aura on the hand. She bit at the clawed talon of the daemon, but it only caused the demon to squeeze her tighter. It was in that moment that she decided to unleash the psychic energies of the Animus Speculum. The blast burned through the face of the daemon. It chittered in pain as the negative energies converted from the magics that it had hurled toward her burned a path through its brain.

The daemon's body crumbled bit by bit as the beam arced downward through the torso, slicing it in half. With a final caw, the daemon was sent screaming back to the Warp. Marcella backflipped, landing on the floor, before she instantly realized the building was beginning to collapse. She ran at top speed, darting between falling debris and somersaulting over fallen rocks.

When she had left the unnamed building where she had completed her objective, she watched as the walls came down on each other in one huge pile of debris. From what Marcella had briefly read from the plaques that she had found on it while climbing the structure, it was called the Billings Rectory. The mansion was once the seat of the local Ecclesiarchy deacon, although it had been moved somewhere six hundred years ago. It then become the house of a local noble family, before that faction had gotten in deep trouble with the Holy Ordos. It then became a temporary dwelling for the students of a local Schola Progenium after an act of arson burnt down two of the dormitories. After the buildings had been rebuilt this house had been sold to a reclusive man who enjoyed dabbling in the occult. He had occupied the building for twenty years before he was dragged screaming out of this mansion by forces of the Ordos Hereticus.

It had lain abandoned for three centuries before Cassius Kôlsch had appropriated it as his own hideout; Marcella had theorized that the rogue psyker had found a secret passage leading to it from his own home. She had seen one such secret door; when she had pulled a set of five books out in a specific order it had caused the bookshelf to slide out of the way, revealing a long, narrow passageway. She had told Briar of that detail, as it apparently wasn't found on any maps in the database of the building.

"Good to see you, Marcella," Her husband walked up to her; Minutes earlier, she had lowered her pariah aura to it lowest possible setting .

"My adorkable hubby, how nice," She giggled as she turned to him.

"My oddball pariah wife," he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her.

Marcella blushed lightly at this bit of attention. The years spent in the escape pod had enabled Marcella to break down some of her indoctrination, and the years spent on the Graceful Star had further wore down the wall between herself and her emotions. She could still recall the days that when she had seen Ippo in the interior of the ship, her heart had pounded out of her chest, and she had blushed brightly, but she didn't quite understand what these emotions meant. But as she spent more time contemplating these emotions, she recalled that she had seen them in her own parents, so she concluded that these feelings were connected to the scientific reality of romance. Marcella had learnt about it in her classes, but she wanted to try exploring the idea of romantic affection with Ippo and she often let him in her quarter at every opportunity.

She could still recall the rose bouquet he had gave her. The first time she had laid eyes on the flowers, she had fainted. It was either a remnant of her programming or emotional overload; Marcella was uncertain if it was either. The ribbing from the rest of the crewmembers hadn't help either, and both Ippo and she had spent weeks clearly redfaced at the endless teasing. To add insult to injury, Hafza had snapped a pict-snap of Ippo cradling her in his arms and added it to the bulletin board containing various embarrassing pictures of the crew, including the now infamous drunk scene from Stromark Primus.

The arranged marriage was another matter. There was another much more infamous precedent in the Officio Assassinorum's archives. It involved the grand master Morias Skult. It turned out that his great-uncle had willed his warrant of trade to Morias as a final insult to his five delinquent scions, who were more interested in a life of debauchery than running the business that the man had established earlier. When the sons had attempted to usurp this rogue trader's control over his empire, he had changed his will, cutting them out.

Morias Skult had accidently discovered this fact during a mission to assassinate a high-ranking heretic. While rummaging through the attic of an abandoned manse for information on his target, he had found this will, along with the aforementioned warrant of trade. The revelation of the event had caused Morias to pass out because his emotions had overloaded his programming.

After the masters of the Vindicare temple had debated about this event, they had agreed that Morias had to marry and produce heirs. They had chosen one of the daughter of the High Lords, a young socialite called Charlotte Attelison. The couple had seven children, three who become assassins of the Vindicare temple, while the other four became business magnates. The House of Skult was still going strong in the 42nd millennium, from what Marcella had heard.

Ever since that incident, there had been marriages of temple assassins, but they were few and sparse. The reason was that often their secrecy and the activities they often carried out required total social isolation. But if such a thing occurred, it was often because the operative in question was either the last of his/her lineage or was the only suitable candidate in his/her family, with all other candidates being disqualified for various reasons. Marcella's case was certainly the latter; she could recall reading her cousin Minako Sarchevona's ravings in her diaries. It had been quite disturbing, from the fact that the act of killing gave the woman orgasms, to the later entries talking about the act of rending skin from flesh, and rending muscles from bones. It was also commonly known among the Snow family that Minako practiced cannibalism and vampirism.

Marcella, on the other hand took no pleasure in such acts. She had heard that to do so made it easier to forget who you were really killing for. Some Khornate cults once started out as Imperial death cults, but as time passed the assassins begun to _forget_ who they were really _killing_ in the name of.

It had been somewhat similar with Slaaneshi death cults, except that the killers began enjoying the thrill and the sensual act of killing began giving them orgasms. They begun seeking more depraved methods of murder to reach that sexual rush as it became noticeably harder to achieve. As time passed on, these groups became highly obsessive with the pursuit of the perfect murder, to challenge themselves to reach that orgasmic moment where killing melded with sexual pleasure.

Minako would have wound up on that path, if it wasn't for the Snows' decision to send her to a sanitarium slash servitor factory. Marcella had assumed the crazy bitch had been lobotomized and turned into a servitor.

She grabbed her husband's hands as her handlers herded them in the shuttles; Thrawn Eisenhorn had already prepared a raid upon the Kôlsch compound.

* * *

Telemachus Kôlsch dashed through the hallways. Something was chasing him. Calling out to him to face his fate. He had just woken up with the intention to use one of the courtesans for his own pleasure. He soon noticed a shadow following him all the way to the pleaure parlors; He had called for guards, but they never came.

He had realized that an assassin had infiltrated the estate where the Kôlsch family had been living in when he saw the desiccated bodies of the men. He had thrown some things in order to stall her, but the woman had merely caught them, before she had leapt at him, closing in the kill. He managed to dodge, only briefly, before he ran again.

Telemachus found himself in another room; he barricaded the doors, and turned his attention to the small Slaaneshi altar. He slit his wrist. Offering himself to the Lord of Excess had it risk but the rewards were worth it, as the god heard his prayers. The damned corpse god never gave him answers.

The cults that worshipped the corpse emperor never gave people the freedom to be themselves. They were repressed shadows of their true selves, and it was something that Telemachus and his father had railed against.

He laughed as the husky voice of the Prince of pleasure purred in his head, comforting and seducing him. It was suddenly cut off as the nightmarish presence of the assassin reassert herself. She leapt out of the vent that she had used to enter his room. He took out the lash that the Lord of Excess had gifted him after a prolonged torture session involving a Adepta Sororitas Elohiem that he had abducted from a nearby convent.

He used the whip to grab on the ankle of the assassin to destabilize her, but she instead dodged the movement, zig-zagging in a pattern to dodge each strike of his whip. He then tried another approach; taking out a pair of poisoned needles, he threw them at the assassin. One hit her in the stomach, while other completely missing. She dropped to the ground, plucking it out of her wounds, before she waited for Telemachus to approach her, bent on killing her.

It was in that moment that Marcella struck, wrapping her hand around Telemachus's neck. She snapped his neck in such a brutal way that it made the skull separate from its spine, before she drained both pieces of it life essences. She knew that Thrawn Eisenhorn and Denton Briar was currently targeting the Kôlsch patriarch because of his associations with Slaaneshi cults.

Telemachus' killing went a long way to avenge Cassius' sexual abuse at the hands of his brother; The fact that the unnamed patriarch let it go on for so long really spoke to the character of the man. He was more interested in satisfying his depraved desires than protecting his children. Hopefully when the two Inquisitors dealt with the fool, what would be left of him would be ash.


End file.
